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yoonjinkooked · 3 years

Text

Chemistry | JHS (6 (pt 1))

Part 6 - Just Do It

(pls ignore my old URL, i’m too lazy to change it now RIP)

DRABBLE SERIES, TONS OF SHORT LITTLE CHAPTERS.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Pairing: Hoseok / Reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: FWB, university AU, smut

Warnings: blonde Hobi (yes, that’s a dang warning), heaps of dirty talk, public groping, lots of sex discussion, them being responsible adults and getting tested before doing it, cursing, drinking. It ends on a bit of a cliff hanger cause this is just an intro of the smut fest that the next chapter will be Also, IMPORTANT: the ‘Spring Cleaning’ party that I am describing is fictional (that I know of at least) and I BEG OF YOU, please don’t mix your drinks. Just don’t. It won’t end well. Don’t mix drinks, don’t drink and drive, don’t drink what a random person gives you and never ever ever leave sight of your glass. Please. Drink responsibly and stay the f away from it if you are underaged. That also means you need to stay the f away from this story, too 💜

Word Count: 3k

Summary: After a few years of being immune to Jung Hoseok’s charms, you suddenly fall into them, head first. All it takes is one night, too much alcohol and a lot of balls.

A/N: Again, DRINK RESPONSIBLY! The smut fest part 2 is coming super fast (no pun intended). Unedited, so please forgive me, I needed to get this shit out to you and i just need more Hobi. these are drabbles after all lol

“I’m clean,” Hoseok informs you with the widest grin possible. “Got the results emailed this morning. 100% clean and ready.”

You don’t register his words at all - first of all, he had startled you, appearing directly in front of your path, probably seeing you from afar, making your way to the study hall where the first class of your day takes place. And on top of that, you are way too shocked with his appearance to even bother understanding the words he was telling you.

“You’re… you’re blonde,” you mumble as you stare at his hair, wondering if it’s your mind playing tricks on you. Sunlight makes hair lighter, doesn’t it? It doesn’t make it almost platinum, though. Looking him over, you realize that nothing else has changed - still the same height, still the same weight, still his signature casual but colorful clothing - but the blonde is there and it’s magnetic - it’s impossible to look at anything else before your eyes are glued to his new hairstyle again. It suits him so damn well. If someone had told you he’d look this good blonde, you wouldn’t have believed them.

“Oh, yeah,” he waves his hand off, laughing, as if it’s a completely irrelevant thing. Honestly, to him it might be, but not to you. “More importantly, I am clean,” he repeats his earlier words and this time around, you do get to properly register them, as well as the meaning behind them. Clean. Safe to have sex. No worries in that department. You should be overjoyed but not only are you still hypnotized by his sudden change of looks, you’re also refusing to focus on that particular information.

It’s weird - you did stuff, discussed even more, agreed on everything. You blushing at him informing you that it’s finally safe for him to fuck you and finish inside you is weird.

“You’re blonde,” is all you can say, and it earns you an eye roll from Hoseok.

“Oh come on Y/N,” he whines. “If you’re going to be like this just take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Hey!” you snap, smacking him on the shoulder in retaliation, which only makes him laugh. “Have mercy on me here, give me a moment to get used to this new look of yours. If I showed up with a completely different hair color, would you be able to focus on anything else?” you demand, absolutely positive that he’d be equally as lost as you are.

“If you telling me that you’re clean and we can finally fuck, yeah, I wouldn’t be focusing on hair, even if it had all the colors of the rainbow in it,” he answers honestly.

“Okay, okay, we get it, we’re on the same page - you’re stupidly hot, clean and want to fuck,” you laugh at him, although you would be a fool to deny that it’s getting to you - the way he is so upfront about liking you and being attracted to you is impossible to ignore - it makes you feel a lot more confident than you have felt in a long while.

“Oh Y/N, you know me so well,” he acts as if he’s genuinely touched and it’s this reaction that makes you melt and laugh. No matter the hair color, no matter how casual he references his intention to get his dick inside you, it’s Hoseok. And that’s all that matters. “Seriously though, we both have our results so whenever you’re ready, if you’re still up for it…” he doesn’t finish the sentence but the raise of his eyebrow says it all.

“I’m not missing out on that piece of ass if that’s what concerns you,” you joke, looking him up and down as you speak. It’ll never cease to amaze you how he can whisper the dirtiest things to you, or even say them casually out loud, but turn as red as a tomato when you do the same thing. “What are you doing tonight, do you have any plans?” you ask.

“Aren’t you going to Namjoon’s?” he frowns in confusion. “Spring Cleaning party season?” he reminds you and starts laughing immediately, probably at your look of realization mixed in with disgust. “Is this about Namjoon or about the Spring Cleaning party season?” he laughs.

What you guys refer to as spring cleaning is exactly what it sounds like - all the leftover alcohol that somehow managed to survive the past year is gathered in one place in the ‘bring-your-own-booze’ manner. It’s usually a mixture of hideous drinks and half empty bottles and once it’s all gathered, you make it even worse, combining it into borderline poisonous mixtures. Everyone attending and everyone drinking does so on their own responsibility, fully aware of how the night might end.

A year ago, it was still fun. Now, you know you’re too old for that shit.

“It’s about both,” you answer Hobi’s question in a whine. “I don’t wanna deal with wasted frat boys who’ll spend half the night throwing up and Namjoon is insufferable.”

“Namjoon is one of your best friends,” Hobi laughs.

“I know - that’s why I’m well aware of how insufferable he is,” you grunt in annoyance. “I know it’s tradition and all but can we skip all of that? Coochie in exchange for avoiding a party we’re too old for anyways?” you suggest.

“Wait,” Hoseok’s eyes widen and you can imagine a lightbulb turning on above his head. “You think Namjoon’s insufferable?”

“Incredibly so, yes.”

“And you want to make his life a living hell in retaliation?” he continues asking.

“Absolutely,” you reply in a heartbeat, despite loving Namjoon like he was your family. You adore him but you cannot stand him at times and ever since this little thing with Hoseok had started, he had not stopped teasing you. It’s time for him to suffer.

“Hear me out,” Hoseok moves closer to you, as if he is about to share a conspiracy theory that no one except you is allowed to know about. “How about we go to the party and stay there a bit - laugh at the idiots, dance to bad music - just a regular Thursday. And then, when the shitshow starts, and it will start, we go upstairs and seal the deal?”

“You want us to fuck in Namjoon’s house?” you start laughing.

“Is there anything that would annoy and traumatize him more than knowing two of his closest friends fucked in his house?” he points out.

“Yeah, if he walks in,” you burst out laughing. “Honestly, sold. Fuck it.”

“I plan to,” he wiggles his eyebrows at you in the most sleazy manner possible - jokingly, of course. He knows he has you hooked and he can play around with it. And you’ll love it.

“Ugh, stop doing that,” you laugh, smacking him on the shoulder again. “Don't try too hard, you already have me, blondie.”

“I look that good, huh?” he laughs, hitting the bullseye.

You don’t answer that question - you offer him nothing more than a smile and a shrug before you slowly walk past him and make your way to a class you’re probably already late for. He knows you enough to realize that to you, yes, he does look that good. And you cannot wait to find out what other things he can do to you, hoping that the movie is as promising as the trailer was.

Standing across the room, Hoseok keeps his eyes glued to you, the same way he did from the moment you entered the house. You aren’t hiding from it either - you make direct eye contact with him, smiling in a knowing manner as you listen to whatever it is that Taehyung was yapping on about. You tried to listen - you really did, at first. But the problem is that Hoseok’s very presence demands your attention - it’s something you can’t control. If he’s around, if he’s in the room and if you have this feeling of the two of you alone knowing something, knowing this secret about what’s going to happen tonight - no one else stands a chance, not even your friends.

“Are you seriously ogling Hoseok while I’m asking you for relationship advice?” Taehyung sounds exasperated and you feel guilty - even more so when you realize that the only reason he did manage to get your attention was because he had mentioned his name.

“Ugh, I’m so sorry Tae,” you don’t try to defend yourself, knowing you’re guilty as charged. “My mind is a mess, I’m a useless friend. I just… can’t focus on anything else,” you admit sheepishly, not really wanting to go into details. They know that something is happening and that’s it. You don’t want to share more, neither does Hoseok, nor do you think any of your friends is particularly thirsty for details. Except perhaps Jimin, but tough luck for him.

“Then go!” Tae urges you and for a moment, you think that he is angry at you - the urgency with which he said it makes you wonder if he’s pissed with you for not listening to him carefully - but when you look up at him, you see his signature smile. He’s not angry - he’s cheering you on. “Go and get your guy!”

You want to sigh, roll your eyes and remind him that Hoseok is not your guy - but in a weird, fucked up way that only you and him understand, he kind of is. It’s you he’s looking at - not any other girl, and there are plenty. It’s you he’s had his eyes on ever since he first saw you - it’s you he’s waiting for.

So you go for it - the same way you did the night it all started. Without thinking twice about it, you approach him, walking through a crowd of people to get to him - his eyes follow you every step of the way, standing straighter as you finally get to him, mere inches separating the two of you.

It’s electric. The feeling between the two of you, it’s purely electric, making you wonder if he’d burn to the touch if you were to reach out. In your mind, he always was the epitome of the Sun, so it wouldn’t be no surprise. You notice his smile despite not breaking eye contact - he smiles at you with them too, the signature wrinkles appearing on the edges.

“Well, don’t you look lovely tonight,” he tells you, giving you a quick once over. “Black has always suited you.”

“Now’s the time when I say something quirky yet charming like, ‘it matches my soul’,” you joke, laughing along with him. “Thank you - I had to dress in my finest, seeing as it’s a special occasion after all.”

“Is it?” he laughs. “I thought it was just a Spring Cleaning party.”

“Hoseok…” you shoot him a warning glare.

“I’m just messing with you,” he laughs, pointing out the obvious. “Can I… kiss you?”

This question takes you by surprise - you have decided to be public with whatever the hell this thing is - simply to avoid confusion, especially since you’ve agreed that you won’t be sleeping with other people while this deal of yours is standing. It’s a nice surprise, though - the fact that he still wants to ask, the fact that he is making sure that you are comfortable with it - whether it’s with the kiss itself or it being in public. It warms your heart to know that even though you had never planned any of this with him, he ended up being the right choice.

“Hobi, honestly, we’re past the point where you need to ask,” you admit, wanting him to know that you’re not going to back out and that you do feel comfortable.

He says nothing, instead deciding to kiss you immediately. It’s slow and gentle, lazy and languid, in a way that shows no rush or urgency. It’s obvious that he is enjoying it, and so are you, every move of his tongue against yours, every breath of yours that mingles with his. To the two of you, the rest of the room no longer exists - the sounds toned out, the people long forgotten. It’s almost as if it’s you and you alone - and the rest of the world doesn’t matter. You move your body closer to his, anchoring your hands around his neck as you press against his front - as you have found out, making out with Hoseok has plenty of merits, and one of the bigger ones is simply the feel of his body against yours.

His hands wander, slowly and likely aware of the audience around you - it’s highly unlikely that anyone spared you more than a glance, but despite what it feels like in your mind, you are definitely not alone. So when his fingers graze your ass, he doesn’t grab it firmly like you know he’d like to - he simply rests his hand there, with pressure that promises that there’s more in his mind than a simple touch. You know very well that if the two of you don’t slow down soon, he’ll pop a boner in the middle of Namjoon’s kitchen and even though you’re hardly keeping this a secret, that would likely be a bit too much for him to handle.

With your mind heading in that direction, you begrudgingly stop the kiss, but you don’t move too far away from him - your hands still around his neck and his hands still on your ass. For what seems like minutes, neither of you says a word, simply looking at each other, your eyes scanning the face of the other - the way his lips are wet and how he nervously licks at them, the way his cheeks also changed shades (and you know alcohol is not to blame for it) and the glint in his eye that likely mirrors yours, with both of you knowing what’s in the other one’s head. Tonight is the night, the night you will finally seal the deal.

And if all goes well, start something that will make you explore things and areas you dared not speak of, much less try them before. All of it, from the sweetest and most romantic to the nastiest, kinkiest shit imaginable - you want to do it all with him and it’ll start tonight.

“So...” You start, in what you hope is a sexy voice. “Are we going to go and piss Joon off by fucking in his house?” you ask, making sure that the sexy voice you’re trying to use is also low enough for no one else but him to hear. You take it a step further, pressing your lips to his ear, whispering. “I want to suck you off before I ride you until I can no longer hold myself up. Then, I want you to fuck into me with all that strength you have and fill me up, watch the cum drip out of me and then watch me finger it back inside my cunt.”

Pulling away just in time to see him swallow a lump, you move one of your hands from around his neck, down his chest and stomach, very slowly, before grazing it over his already noticeable growing dick - you don’t tease him more than that, knowing that even though you might not feel them, you likely do have eyes on you by now - you simple careers the area where his jeans are starting to stand out, a sign of his eagerness that completely mirrors the way your underwear is sticking to your core. Both of you are horny as all hell and if you don’t act on it soon, you’ll jump his bones right here, right now, on Joon’s kitchen sink.

“How ‘bout I use my fingers to push the cum back inside you and when it dribbles out again, I eat you out until you want to scream my name but you can’t, ‘cause you’re sucking on my fingers, licking every drip of cum left on them?” he suggests and you for a second, you think your knees are going to give out and you’ll fall flat. You don’t, likely because he still has his hands pressed to your backside.

“Oh, I’d want nothing more,” you shamelessly admit.

“Then we’re not doing it here,” he announces, laughing at the immediate sulky reaction it elicited from you. “Don’t be like that, it’s better if we go to my place,” he chuckles at you, gently squeezing your butt. “I want us to enjoy the night, go for as many rounds as our bodies can take and then do it again in the morning. We can’t have that here while some freshman is doing a keg stand and anyone can walk in on us at any second. We can piss Joon off later - but it’s the first time we’re gonna do it and damn it, I wanna do it right.”

“You wanna do it right?” your eyebrows rise.

“I could stand here all night and list all the things that I want to do to you, and you to me, and still remember more on the way home - and we’ve already discussed a bunch. I want to treat you good and give you the best fuck of your life - I promised as much and I want to deliver. We can fuck in Joon’s house any other day, honestly.”

“Do you want to… use something tonight?” you ask, pressing your hand against his crotch a little bit harder this time. “I have some toys back at my place but we won’t be alone there.”

“Nah,” he shakes his head immediately. “I have my cock, mouth and fingers - I don’t need much else to make you want to never do anyone else. We’ll have plenty of time for all the toys - and when I say all, I mean all. I’d go for anything with you.”

“If you keep talking like that, I’m just going to cum right here, right now,” you admit.

“While that would be a sight for sore eyes, I have other plans. Let’s go,” he takes you by the hand and away you go, making your way through the crowd, not caring if anyone notices how quickly you’re leaving or how you’re walking hand in hand.

You simply don’t give a shit, at all. All you care about is Hoseok right now - his dick, mouth and fingers and all the things he plans to do with them.

#hoseok smut #jhope smut #bts smut #hoseok fanfic #hoseok series #bts fanfic #bts series #thebtswritersclub #bangtanarmynet

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momoshin · 3 years

Note

Ryujin fluffy alphebet a-z 🥺🥺

A = Activities (What do they like to do with you? How do you spend your free time together?)

PICNICS! making your own food (or buying it sometimes) and setting a blanket in the middle of a nice park where kids and dogs could be easily spotted. she’ll ask you to read poetry to her, play her guitar for you, you’ll sing together, just two fools in love. also, scrapbooking! it’s something you both discovered you liked doing together very early on in your relationship.

B = Beauty (What do they admire about you? What do they think is your most beautiful feature?)

loves your lips, eyes and waist. she loves kissing you, but just looking at your lips makes her heart race, same with your eyes, she could keep eye contact with you forever, she just loves everything about them. and your waist is her hand’s favorite place, whether you’re sitting or standing, one if not both of her hands will always be on your waist.

C = Comfort (How would they help you when you feel down/have a panic attack etc.?)

ryujin won’t bother to pull you aside, she doesn’t care if there’s anyone around, she will stop what she’s doing once she sees any signs of you struggling and asks if you need a breather or if she can help in any way, if you say no, she will stay by your side and let her hands run up and down your back to help you calm down, will hug you if you let her and tuck her chin on top of your head while humming melodies to you.

D = Dates (What are dates with them like?)

she’s so selfless, even with dates she’s always making sure you’re comfortable with wherever and whatever you’re doing, hands always entangled and she’s always willing to pay for whatever you want

E = Equal (Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?)

dominant for sure, whether it’d be in bed or not

F = Fights (Would they forgive you easily? What are they like while fighting with you?)

she would hate fighting, the possibility of upsetting you to the point where you’d rather sleep on the couch than with her terrifies her, and as soon as you grab your pillow and a blanket, she grabs your wrist and tries to convince you to stay with her, puppy eyes full of apologies that her words couldnt quite express

G = Gratitude (How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what you are doing for them?)

SO grateful, ryujin is generally grateful for her life, where she is and such, but she always thanks you for doing small things for her, making her breakfast, anything really.

H = Hugs (What is their favorite way to hug and cuddle you?)

she personally loves when you casually come up to her and without interrupting her conversation, press up against her and wrap her arms around your shoulders yourself.

I = Inspiration (Did you change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?)

ryujin definitely holds less grudges ever since she met you, she doesn’t feel the need to see the people who have made her suffer, suffer, she doesn’t feel the need to prove herself to anyone, doesn’t listen to mean comments or people who just want to bring her down.

J = Jealousy (Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?)

mm depends ? she trusts you more than anyone, and she trusts both your friends, so when she gets jealous its more of a “why the fuck is that guy looking at my girlfriend like he wants to eat her” kind of thing, it usually involves someone she’s never seen before, and it leads to her walking over to the two of you and not so subtly placing a hand on your waist, calling you all sorts of nicknames while glaring at them

K = Kisses (Who initiated the first kiss? What kind of kisser are they? Shy? Passionate?)

she initiated the first kiss! she’ll peck your lips so many times in the day but as soon as she has the chance she will pull you to the side and get her well earned dose of kisses. her kisses usually range from short, repeated pecks, they are goofy at times, sensual even, and she finds herself biting your lip gently every once in a while

L = Love Confession (How would they confess to you?)

in bed, the two of you looking at each other silently and then she just says all these things that sounds like she’s proposing because it’s so detailed and you can tell she loves you so much it’s quite inevitable for you to cry or get teary eyed as she talks about everything she loves about how and how good you make her feel

M = Marriage (Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would your marriage be like?)

Yes but not yet, she would probably propose at a meaningful place for your relationship, and i have this vivid image of her wearing a bodysuit like the one for the gda’s last year for her wedding, she’d let you make the important decisions but would be completely involved whenever you asked for her opinion and would try to help as much as she could so it didn’t all pile up for you.

as for marriage, i think the dynamic would fit you both perfectly, the shiny bands on your hands, loves the way ‘my wife’ slips off her tongue as she introduces you to someone, or whenever someone asks you about each other and uses the ‘your wife’ it just gives you both butterflies all over again.

N = Nicknames (What do they call you?)

baby, angel, my love, short versions of your name sometimes!

O = On Cloud Nine (What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?)

everyone can notice, it’s like an aura she carries around and she’s instantly bubblier, in situations that maybe would’ve gotten a rise out of her she’s more patient, she’ll be nicer to her members and such,, she makes sure to text you good morning and good night, throughout the day, that she misses you, that she loves you, sends you small details when she can’t make it to deliver them personally, just always reminding you of her appreciation, besides, she never shuts up about you, her members claim are sick and tired of hearing ‘y/n this, y/n that’ but in reality, they love seeing ryujin so happy and loved.

P = Parent (What kind of parent would they be?)

idk if i can see ryujin with kids, but in the chance you do have any, she would be such a cool mom, taking them to her studio just so they could hop around to music while she choreographed something, maybe she has a room for them to play and nap if necessary too, and if you have a boy, she would be his hero literally, he’ll always want to be like her and copy her every move.

Q = Quirk (Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship or a cute quirk they have that many don’t know about)

she’s such a good cuddler/can make people fall asleep so easily, the way she expertly runs her hands through your hair or back lulls you into a deep slumber almost instantly, the kisses she presses on your nose and forehead only helping the matter

R = Romantic (How romantic are they? What would they do to make you happy? Cliché or rather creative?)

ryujin is so romantic in general, she just loves to express how much she loves you and cares for you in more ways than just saying it. and the long-lasting smile on your lips when she susprises you is so worth it too, it can range from bringing home a dish of chocolate covered strawberries to setting up a bath with rose petals and candles, to just taking a drive around the city to a pretty place she heard about, talking softly about everything and nothing

S = Secrets (Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?)

you pretty much share anything, honesty is very important for her and your relationship. plus she enjoys telling you even about the smallest details of her day

T = Thrill (Do they need to try out new things to spice up your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?)

she doesn’t need to, ryujin is perfectly happy with your dynamic and so are you, but whenever the topic comes up she’s not opposed!

U = Unbearable (What habit do they have that’s unbearable? What habit do you have that they find unbearable)

EATING IN BED. i know y’all have seen that livestream of her eating tangerines in bed, sticky, juicy tangerines. so whenever she brings a snack or anything to eat to bed she’s expecting your side eye to what she responds promising to not make a mess and to clean it if she does.

and her, she hates your incredibly weird eating combinations, the fact that you will offer some to her to try too, she finds herself gagging just at the sight or smell and threatening to break up with you for laughing.

V = Videos (Do they take lots of videos or photos during your relationship?)

of course she does, like i said, the two of you enjoy scrapbooking, that means making your own scrapbook with your own photos taken by each other or strangers you asked on the street, writing down funny highlights of your dates to remember whenever you go through it. also, she has you as her background, it’s a funny yet endearing sight to see her flaunting the front of her phone to everyone so they would catch a glimpse of you as her wallpaper.

W = Wedding (What is your wedding like?)

so much fun, lots of dancing, kissing, and teasing, specially when it’s time to take your garter off ;)). but the most endearing moment is cutting the cake, it’s funny, nerve-wracking because everyone is looking at you, yet a beautiful memory you’ll hold on to forever as long as the photos capturing the moment.

X = eXtra (What is an interesting fact about them that they’ve only told you?)

maybe that she wants to have a farm at some point in her life

Y = Yearning (How do they cope when they’re missing you?)

she’ll call you, of course, talk to you, but ever since you made her a playlist, songs that reminded you of her, of the two of you, whenever she’s missing you she will listen to it, even if she knows the song letter by letter she will listen to all of them until the pain in her chest dissolves into something lighter. even when she’s sad and with you, she’ll play the songs and lay in your arms, sometimes crying with the soft murmur of your singing in her ear.

Z = ZZZ (What is it like sleeping with them? Do they like to cuddle or do they need space?)

i don’t think she moves at all lmao, like you will find every hair and muscle just the way you last saw it before closing your eyes, most of the time she likes cuddling, i feel like she is a bigger spoon type of person, but she will hide her face in your chest every once in a while to be able to go to sleep.

#ryujin blurb #ryujin headcanon #ryujin !#ryujin x reader #ryujin fluff #ryujin imagine #itzy imagine #itzy imagines #itzy fluff #alphabet #my stuff

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khuns · 4 years

Text

who else is there to love but you; a khunbaam au

He tastes like Baam has always thought of and more, lips slotting into Baam’s the way he has slotted himself into the space between Baam’s heartbeats, and Baam isn’t sure if he ever wants Khun to pull away.

“Come on, Baam, it’s our graduation. It’s the last time any of us are gonna have time to travel before we settle into jobs and fall victim to the monotony of everyday li-“

A snort crackles through the speaker, and Hatz’s voice rings clear, “Speak for yourself, Isu. Some of us still can’t find jobs-“

A jostle over the phone, then: “-anyway, as I was saying, it’s just one last hurrah before we officially start adulting. Please just say yes, Baam, nearly everyone else has agreed-“

Baam sighs and sets down his pencil. It’s literally the week of finals; every time he rubs his eyes he sees syntax trees tattooed on the inside of his eyelids. How does Isu expect him to make big decisions when his entire brain is clouded with theta roles?

He opens his mouth, about to ask Isu to please just ask him when he gets back to their dorm room because his brain really can’t handle thinking about budgeting and accommodations, but Isu’s sly voice beats him to the punch. “Khun’s coming.”

Baam lets his head drop into his hands and groans.

Damn Shibisu.

The first time Baam meets Khun, Baam is splayed out on his stomach on Hatz’s kitchen floor, honey dripping from his hair.

The laughter on his tongue dies out; Isu stops flinging flour at where Hatz is crouched, taking cover.

Baam watches in dismay as the most beautiful man he’s ever seen in his life stands at Hatz’s doorway, mouth pressed into a thin line and eyes as hard as flint. The man’s fingers are still curled around the door handle as he surveys the mess before a clipped, “Hatz.”

He feels Hatz tensing up from where he’s knelt beside Baam, hands braced against the fine dusting of flour on the floor.

“I’ll make sure the kitchen is spotless,” Hatz bites out, tone frosty.

Baam’s eyes meet the man’s through a slow tangle of honey, and he can’t help the shiver that runs down his spine. Even backlit and haloed in the artificial hallway light, he reminds Baam of someone royal, hair pulled away from cheekbones high and regal and bangs barely covering eyes cool as glass.

An eternity stretches before the man breaks eye contact with him and makes out a curt nod, “Make sure you do.”

And then he’s gone, door locking behind him with a neat click.

Isu is the first to break the silence- “Fuck, Hatz, when you called to tell me your new roommate was an ass you didn’t say he was a beautiful one-“

“Shut the fuck up, he’s a royal pain in the ass, that’s why I called you to come over- “

“His eyes, Hatz, did you see them-“

“I hardly feel the need to look into the eyes of someone who pisses me off from day one-“

“You ask me to come over and make cookies for you, but you just neglect to mention how beautiful-“

“You saw for yourself, he’s so fucking pretentious - look, Isu, if you’ve done quite enough salivating over my arse of a roommate, do you mind helping your poor roommate up?”

Isu squeaks and slides through the flour to Baam’s side, “You alright?”

“Yeah,” Baam says. “Yeah, no, I’m alright.”

As Isu helps Baam pick himself off the floor and sends him into the bathroom to rinse out his hair, all Baam can think about is the man’s cool blue eyes and the way the image keeps sending his heart back up his throat.

It’s ten in the morning after his last final and Baam barely has time to stuff his duffel in the trunk when Rak calls shotgun.

It sets off a squabble between Hatz and Isu about who should drive and devolves into an argument over whether Rak can navigate (he cannot) and when Isu will even let anyone else drive his precious car (never).

There is a soft huff of amusement from where Khun is leaning on the side of the car, hands fiddling through what looks like a GPS, and Khun looks up at Baam, grinning. “We’ll never set off at this rate.”

“We’ll have to spend the first night back in our dorms and leave tomorrow instead,” Baam returns, biting back a smile. Khun laughs at that, his eyes sparkling through his bangs and curved into crescent moons, and Baam has to tamp down a familiar flare in his chest.

Keep it under control, he tells himself. It’s just a weeklong road trip, after which Khun will move somewhere in the big city for a job at his father’s company and Baam will move back home, despairing over what little job prospects a linguistics major brings. Useless crushes are just that, useless.

He watches as Khun pushes off from the side of the car and tosses the GPS to Isu. “Keyed in a place for lunch,” Khun grins as Isu squawks and fumbles to catch it, “Now you won’t need either of those two idiots up front.”

Hatz splutters indignantly and the rest of them just laugh, scrambling to get into the car so they can finally, finally get on their way and maybe get a decent cup of coffee.

(Rak, much to his disgruntlement, is relegated to the backseat, sandwiched between Khun and Baam.)

The second time Baam meets Khun, Baam neither is on the floor nor has any sticky substance in his hair (thankfully).

He knocks on Hatz’s door, ready to deliver Hatz’s notebook from where Hatz left it in Baam and Isu’s dorm room during an earlier study session.

(A ‘study session’, Baam has learnt, is just an excuse for Isu to bother his best friend into coming over to their room so they can talk about everything other than homework. Not that Baam minds, of course - conversations between Hatz and Isu flow like water, stories from their shared childhood spilling out as they try their best to embarrass each other in front of Baam.)

There’s a click as the door unlocks and Baam’s mouth opens, ready to remind Hatz that even though they only live just a few floors above him, it’s best not to leave his Physics notes behind ever again for Isu to doodle senselessly on, but when the door swings open, it’s Blue Eyes.

Oh.

“Looking for Hatz?” The man prompts, after a beat of silence. “He’s in the shower.”

Baam flushes and makes the conscious effort to shut his jaw. He holds Hatz’s notes out to Blue Eyes, “Hatz left this in my room earlier, could I leave this with you please?”

Blue Eyes raises an eyebrow at the dick drawn in Sharpie on Hatz’s notebook cover. He looks back up at Baam.

“It wasn’t me,” Baam blurts, suddenly anxious to inform Blue Eyes that no, he wasn’t the one childish enough to draw dicks onto other people’s notes. “My roommate and Hatz, they’re pretty close, I guess it’s their thing-“

He’s not sure why words are just tumbling out of his mouth, but Blue Eyes just snorts, corner of his mouth turning up in amusement. He takes the notebook from Baam and nods, “I’ll leave it on his desk.”

“Thank you...” Baam trails off, because for the life of him he absolutely cannot remember what Hatz has called his roommate other than ‘The Royal Ass’ and ‘That Fucking Asshole’. Neither of which, Baam is sure, Blue Eyes would like to be called.

“Thank you,” he manages, and turns to hightail it out of there before he embarrasses himself for the third time in a night.

“Hold on,” Blue Eyes says, and he waits until Baam fully turns back around to meet his gaze. “Who should I say left this for him?”

“I’m Baam.” Baam pauses, then tacks on, “From the twenty-fifth floor.”

“Alright, Baam-from-the-twenty-fifth-floor,” Blue Eyes says, and grins. “I’m Khun.”

Khun, Baam repeats all the way back up to his room, Khun. He tucks the name into the pocket of his cheek the way a child savours hard candy - Khun. Khun, Khun, Khun.

(Baam makes it all the way to the lift lobby before he realises that Khun has in fact cracked a dad joke, and when he tells Isu this Isu can’t seem to stop cackling.)

They stop for lunch at a cute diner at the edge of the city. The lights are dim and the booth seats are cracked, stuffing leaking out from where legs have over the years worn the leather down, but the food is warm and the coffee is strong and that’s all that matters.

“More coffee?” The sole waiter nudges Isu’s coffee cup with the jug.

Isu nods. Might as well, if he’s going to be driving for the rest of the day.

He takes a sip and leans back. Rak and Khun are arguing over routes, phones opened to Google Maps and fingers jabbing at the highways. Baam is listening intently to the road talk, slowly pulling the pickles out from his sandwich and setting them in a pile on the edge of his plate, ready for Khun to pick at later.

Isu smiles softly to himself as Rak leans over him to holler at Hatz. He’s glad they cobbled together this trip - it seems the perfect way to end four years of living together before they disperse and are only able to meet on weekends, or worse, every couple of months.

He’ll miss them, of course - if there’s one thing the university did right, it was their random roommate pairings freshman year. Isu’s heard horror stories of roommates going out partying and coming back to puke on rugs, but Baam clicked with him on all sorts of levels, from cleanliness to sleep schedules to taste in films, and it was only natural they applied to continue living together all four years.

And Hatz, despite his deep loathing of Khun during their first month rooming together, quickly warmed up to him too; they were both quiet and studious, were complete night owls and were quite alright with Isu coming to blabber their ears off every once in a while.

(Hatz also strenuously denies this, but after The Physics Lab Incident halfway through the first semester freshman year, Isu is pretty sure Hatz would follow Khun to the ends of the earth and back. And Hatz’s loyalty is hard-earned; he would know.)

Rak was a lucky happenstance in their second year, a constantly sexiled sophomore from across the hallway who more often than not ended up sleeping on their couch. When Isu found out Rak could make a mean beef stew, well? Isu adopted him into their little family straight away.

“What do you guys think?” Khun turns to his left, spearing a pickle off of Baam’s plate. Baam hums his approval and Isu shrugs. He hasn’t really been listening, but he trusts that Khun’s come up with a good route. If anything was weird, Rak and Baam would have pointed it out anyway.

“Doesn’t matter to me where we go,” Hatz says around a full mouth of fries, “As long as we make it to the hotel tonight.”

“Alright then,” Isu says, brushing crumbs off his shirt, “Where has the Great Rak and Khun planned to bring us next?”

“The Museum of Turtles.”

Rak is grinning so broadly Isu can’t help himself - he laughs.

The third time Baam meets Khun, it’s for dinner with Hatz and Isu.

They’re crowded around a table heavy with pizza Hatz must have grabbed on the way back from class. It’s somewhat towards the middle of their first semester - Khun and Hatz must be getting pretty close if Hatz has invited him to eat with them. So much for Hatz’s obstinate declaration that he’d never be friends with someone “that stuck-up”.

“-completely winded because as I said, I fell on my fucking back, and the crazy girl goes, “Oh my god, you’re looking up my skirt!” Like, I’m the one you knocked over literally half a second ago and you’re accusing me of looking at your ugly ass?! How fucking ridiculous is that?” Hatz waves his slice of pizza in the air, pepperoni somehow clinging to the cheese by sheer force of will.

Baam winces in sympathy. He’s not sure what he would have done in Hatz’s place. Maybe die.

“Then Khun - bless Khun - leans over from his bench and says- oh man, I think you better tell this part-“

Khun huffs and wipes his mouth. He sets his half-eaten slice back down, eyes sparkling with mirth, and continues, “So I’m quietly working on this stupid Physics lab sheet when I hear this idiot fall flat on his ass behind me and when I turn around to laugh at him-“

There’s something that resembles a protest from Hatz but it’s covered by Isu’s guffaw.

“-his lab partner looks like she’s about to scream bloody murder to the whole class so I lean over and - see, ordinarily I’d just laugh at Hatz and turn back but this was the girl who looks down on Hatz because she saw that his textbook was second-hand, and more importantly, she insulted my earrings once-“

“Your earrings! How dare she!” Isu is cackling even louder.

“Right?” Khun smirks, and Baam thinks his heart skips a beat, “Anyway, I lean over and I go, “Oh, sweetheart, you’ve fallen again,” and Hatz is on the floor looking at me like I’m some kind of fool instead of his damn roommate trying to get him out of trouble, so I have to tack on, “Sorry, my boyfriend is such a klutz, he’s always bumping into things. And don’t worry about him looking anywhere at you, he’s not interested.” The look on both their faces, priceless-“

“Boyfriend!” Isu howls, pounding the table, “Straight-as-an-arrow Hatz! Boyfriend!”

Hatz grins, “Whatever, you idiot, you missed the best part - then Khun says to her, “Not that there’s much to see anyway!” Oh man, her face must have been some seven shades of purple-” This sets all of them off and as their laughter dies down Baam is pretty sure if he laughs anymore his cheeks might just split in half.

But through his bangs he sees Khun looking, looking at him, and he instantly flushes. He reaches for another slice of pizza, just for his hands to have something to do, but he brushes against something cool and sees Khun retracting his own hand. Khun gestures for him to go ahead, eyes fixed on him.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, then as an afterthought, “Thanks.”

Khun’s smile is absolutely blinding.

Baam hums happily, flicking through photos from the museum exhibit. They were nearly kicked out for being completely obnoxious, yes, but he got the absolute best photos and he knows Isu has more.

“We’re nearly there,” Rak says from where he’s finally wrangled shotgun. Sure enough, Isu turns into the gravel driveway of a small hotel.

Hatz is the first to tumble out of the car, stretching and nearly knocking Baam in the face. It’s been quite a ride from the museum to the hotel, including a boisterous karaoke session, and Baam can’t wait to check in and dump their stuff so they can grab dinner.

“Bad news, y’all,” Isu says, not even ten minutes later. “They have two rooms, but they’re all big beds instead of those individual ones. Hatz and I can take one - we shared beds during sleepovers - but two of y’all have to take a bed and someone has to take the cot.”

Rak, of course, lays claim on the cot instantly. “I kick in my sleep,” he points out, and everyone groans. He does.

Baam nods, but realises with a sinking feeling-

“That leaves Baam with Khun, then,” Isu says, satisfied. He shoots Baam a barely-veiled triumphant look as he hands him a key card and Baam can’t help but flush. This is a terrible, terrible idea, and Isu is a terrible, terrible friend.

He nearly groans in despair when they finally head to the rooms - even with the bed taking up most of the space, it looks barely big enough for two.

Khun clears his throat.

“I can take the floor,” Baam blurts. He doesn’t want to make Khun uncomfortable. With his luck, there’d be some sort of accident in the night and... he’d rather just take the floor and nap in the car tomorrow.

Khun glances sharply at him. “Don’t be silly, you’re going to ache all over tomorrow. We’ll just, you know, set boundaries.”

Baam thinks about the photo Isu once took of him starfishing all over his own bed and clinging to his pillow like a lifeline. Boundaries. “Um,” he says. “Um.”

“Fantastic.” Khun says, already dropping his duffel on one side of the bed.

Fantastic.

Khun eventually loses track of the number of times he meets Baam. It seems like he’s always there whenever Isu comes downstairs to go bother Hatz, or whenever Hatz pulls them all outside for dinner.

(Not that Khun minds, of course - Baam is... interesting. Khun refuses to explore why.)

He ends up seeing Baam outside of the dorm too, sometimes waving to each other across the street between classes. It’s not until Hatz pulls all their schedules together to find a time to go cake-shopping for Isu’s birthday that Khun realises they share a lunch time most days.

Baam volunteers to get the cake the day before Isu’s birthday, since Hatz has classes until late. Which doesn’t quite make sense to Khun, since they agreed on hiding the cake from Isu in Hatz’s and Khun’s room anyway, so he makes an executive decision to join him.

He leans against the wall, picking at his nails, until he hears shuffling from inside the classroom. A few minutes later, Baam emerges from his Phonology class, scarf tucked messily around his neck.

He raises his hand in a half-wave, and waits for Baam to make his way over.

“Heard from Hatz you’re going to pick Isu’s cake out and thought I’d come with,” Khun says in lieu of greeting, and Baam beams at him.

“Great! We can put it in your fridge right after.”

“Exactly why I came,” Khun returns easily, but it seems like the wrong thing to say - the light in Baam’s eyes shutters a little, but before Khun can think about what he said, Baam’s hitched his backpack a little higher and takes the lead out of the linguistics building, waving goodbye at the security guard.

Huh.

He scrambles to catch up, long legs bringing him back up to speed with Baam easily. “I’m thinking chocolate?”

“Isu only ever eats chocolate cake,” Baam informs him, and flashes him a smile. “The only time I ever get to eat a full slice is when I get strawberry or some other fruit flavour.”

“Strawberry? Good taste,” Khun offers, and Baam’s beam returns.

If Khun waits by the exit of Baam’s phonology class the next week just to see that beam again, well, that’s nobody’s business but his own.

Time melts into months, and Khun and Baam’s weekly lunches melt into nearly daily lunches.

Sometimes Khun stops by the linguistics building to wait for Baam to end class; sometimes Baam finds himself waiting outside their agreed-upon dining hall before Khun shows up, waving goodbye to one friend or another.

Khun’s relatively popular, Baam thinks, until Khun corrects him one day with a, “No, it’s just that business majors have to network a lot. I expect we’ll either end up being employed by each other or buying up each other’s businesses ten years down the road.” He laughs at the mildly terrified look on Baam’s face.

Baam tells Khun about the calculus class he’s been forced to take for his math requirement, and Khun gripes about having to take a Physics class to fulfill his science requirements even though he’s a business major. Conversation flows easier than Baam expects, and the more he talks to Khun the smoother it flows.

He learns about how Khun is a business major because he’s expected to take over the family business. He learns about how Khun is interested in a Computer Science minor because he’s convinced the future of the world lies in tech, and Khun learns how Baam might be taking a Psychology minor because he just wants to learn more about the people around him.

Baam learns how Khun talks with his hands, long fingers swirling and jabbing as he maunders around his point. He learns how Khun’s laughs runs from derisive chuckles to laughter as bright as moonlight on icicles. He learns how Khun would rather carry around a hair tie than have to go to the barber’s every two months, and Khun learns, after an incident where his hair tie snaps and he can’t lean forward without getting hair in his soup, that Baam has taken to carrying a spare one around for him.

Baam learns how Khun takes his iced coffee with milk but no sugar, and Khun learns about how Baam’s favourite boba order is lychee green tea. Baam learns about the way Khun doesn’t really believe in dating for fun, not since he watched his sister run away from home with a boy and come back, badly bruised and begging to be loved again as though her family would have ever given up on her the same way that boy did. And Khun learns Baam is a hopeless romantic, and laughs at the way Baam flushes while admitting he believes in love at first sight.

They talk and talk, and as November melts away and Khun introduces Baam to someone as his best friend, Baam grins and feels as though he’s known Khun all his life.

(“It seems as though,” Isu remarks to Hatz one day, “instead of Khun-and-Hatz and Isu-and-Baam, we’ve become Isu-and-Hatz and Khun-and-Baam.”

Hatz throws a pen at his head. “We’ve always been Hatz-and-Isu, you fool. Ever since I saved you on the playground-“

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you swapped the order of our names, you bitch!“)

They’re settling in for the night, Hatz and Isu on the bed and Rak on the fold-out cot.

Rak is tapping away on his phone, setting his multitude of alarms for the next morning, but Hatz doesn’t bother. He’s sure Isu will shake him awake somehow.

He wrestles a good amount of blanket away from Isu’s octopus grasp, and gets ready to close his eyes when Isu suddenly says, “We really need an intervention.”

Hatz frowns. Did he take too much blanket?

“About Khun and Baam.”

Oh. Isu kicks all the covers off in his sleep anyway.

“Khun prides himself on how perceptive he is,” Isu is saying, “But it’s really stupid how he hasn’t cottoned on about Baam.”

Rak bursts out laughing. “We’ve has this conversation before, yes.”

“It’s so slow burn it feels like one of those frog-in-hot-water kind of stories, you know? One of them makes a move, but the other thinks it’s just bros being bros, one of them slips up but the other blames it on fucking Mercury in retrograde or whatever-“

Hatz snorts, “Pretty sure neither of them believe in astrology-“

“Point is, they practically orbit around each other and everyone, everyone, sees that but them. I mean, have you seen the way Baam picks food he doesn’t like off of his meals and Khun just straight up swipes it off of his plate, no questions? Who does that? Every time I swipe food from Rak he threatens to kill me-“

“It’s because you swipe the food I like, you stupid turtle-“

“Anyway, I pointed it out to Baam once and you know what he said? You know what he said?” Isu rubs his hand across his face. “He blinked and said he didn’t even notice! He doesn’t even remember when they started doing it! Khun does the exact same thing and you know how he hates people touching his food! I tried picking carrots off of Khun’s plate last month because I know he always sets his carrots aside and he fucking hit me so hard with his fork I bruised!”

Hatz hears the slight whine in Isu’s voice and finds himself suddenly unable to hold bubbles of laughter in. It’s ridiculous, it really is, four years of Khun being the absolute softest for Baam and Baam not noticing, and he hears Rak’s low rumble of laughter from Isu’s other side.

“The worst thing,” Isu says over their laughter, “is that you know Khun’s the type of person to not do anything if it might put his friendships in danger. Bet you he thinks Baam doesn’t like him like that.” That sobers them up pretty quickly.

“And you know what the absolute kicker is?” Isu’s voice is quieter now, as Hatz’s and Rak’s laughter die down. “Baam won’t do anything about it because - and I know this for a fact - the fool thinks the same.”

Rak groans and rolls over. “We really need to do something before everyone moves home, huh.”

“Damn right we do.”

(They don’t manage to figure out any sort of concrete plan before Rak drops asleep, but Hatz and Isu agree in the vaguest sort of way that Something Must Be Done, Even If We Don’t Know What.)

When their very first set of finals are over, Isu insists on dragging everyone out for drinks.

They find themselves in a small, dimly-lit pub a short walk away from their dorm, teeming with college students temporarily freed from the shackles and chains of higher education. It’s loud and it feels like there are too many people than there should be on a snowy weekday night, but Isu snags them a table and leaves them there to guard it while he goes to grab their first round.

Khun leans across the table, “How were your finals?”

“Glad they’re over,” Hatz says, unwinding his scarf. “I never want to see a physics formula again. How were yours?”

Khun shrugs. “Same about that physics requirement, I suppose. But we’re taking statistics together next semester, right?”

Baam looks up. “Which professor? I’m taking statistics too.” He’d like to take a class with friends, he thinks, and a small flame blooms in his chest at the thought. Friends.

Cheesy as it is, he’s glad he’s come out of his freshman semester with a group of friends to call his own.

“-Yoo, I think,” Hatz is saying, “The Monday and Wednesday morning one.”

“Neat,” Baam grins. “The three of us can study together then?”

“I leave to get drinks and you’re already plotting to take a class without me?” Isu plops a tray down on their table, sounding more amused than affronted.

“You’re the engineering major,” Hatz points out, but Isu waves him away.

“Enough school talk,” Isu says, and raises an eyebrow. “Let’s talk about more fun things.”

Isu’s idea of fun things, apparently, includes a list of get-to-know-you questions, and he grills each and every one of them as if he’s about to have a final on the details of his friends’ lives.

“-past relationships in three words, go.”

Hatz winces, “She… wanted… fencer?“ Isu groans at Hatz’s poor summary, then gestures for Baam.

“Um,” Baam says. “She… wanted better.” Not technically true, he thinks, but that’s as clean as he can get to describing Rachel without prying open a can of worms he had trouble closing in the first place.

Isu pats his hand in sympathy, “One of those, huh? One of my exes dumped me because he had his sights on something higher too. I’ll go for the other one then… his gay experiment.”

Hatz hisses at that, and drains the rest of his beer. “Deserved every last punch I gave him.”

Isu laughs, light and hollow and carefully wiped of emotion, and the sound, emptier than the thud of Hatz’s glass on the table, rings in Baam’s ears. He’s glad Hatz was there to dole out the hits all those years ago, because tipsy on three whole glasses of beers, he’s ready to go out and start a new fight himself.

Isu gestures for Khun’s turn, but Khun’s eyes are on Baam. His gaze has a sort of scrutinising air, as though he’s trying to figure something out, and Baam feels his scowl disappear and a tremble run under his skin.

“I don’t believe in dating,” Khun says, after a measure of silence, and Baam’s heart gives a soft thud from where it has sunk somewhere near the floor.

He isn’t sure why he’s disappointed; he’s known about it ever since Khun told him about his sister, of course, and he’s not even sure what he’s hoping for - they’re great friends and it’s already more than Baam could ask for. Khun is kind and smart and pays attention to the people around him and he has a sort of determined dedication that Baam has never quite figured out how to instil in himself. And even if Khun was up for dating, Baam thinks, he’d be too many leagues above Baam; just in the time they’ve been sat down, there have been countless looks thrown at their table, soft giggles about the boy with the messy blue ponytail and eyes like sapphires, quiet and not-so-quiet whispers daring each other to go up and talk to him.

None of them have, though. It’s just something about the way Khun’s eyes have never wandered from their table that has kept everyone away.

“-couldn’t press charges against him,” Khun is saying. The napkin between his fingers has been torn to shreds, and Baam wants nothing more than to be able to curl his hand around Khun’s in comfort without the tug in his heart begging for more.

He keeps his hands to himself.

“Well, I thought I was the most miserable story, but fuck,” Isu says, and stands up. “I’m going to get another round.”

He comes back with a tray full of soju bottles, and they end up drinking all the way through Isu’s list of silly questions.

They learn that Hatz would name his hypothetical bunny General McHoppers, and that Khun would rather fight a duck-sized horse than a horse-sized duck. Baam can’t remember if they decided on hot dogs being tacos or sandwiches on their way out of the pub, but somewhere along the way his gloves have been fumbled onto his hands and his beanie jammed onto his head.

Isu has his arm around Hatz, talking a mile a minute about how the flat earth theory could theoretically be true while Hatz is struggling to support his weight. Baam could laugh at the way Isu’s stumbling, but come to think of it, he isn’t so sure about the structural integrity of his own legs.

He feels an arm slide around his waist and a laugh, low and breathy in his ear. He shivers at the sound and the way it feels so achingly close he could just turn and- he decides to blame it on the wind chill.

“You’re a lightweight,” Khun accuses. There’s a ribbon of a laugh in his voice and Baam mutters out a stubborn, “I’m not,” that goes unheeded.

“So when are you coming back?” Khun asks, voice light and conversational. “We can probably do something together before winter break is over and the next semester starts.”

Baam squints at him, as though it will make Khun’s voice amplify through the cotton wool of his brain. “Mm not leaving for break,” he says carefully. “Staying here.”

Maybe taking phonology was a good idea, Baam thinks. Makes his enunciation clearer and all that. Maybe Khun will stop thinking he’s drunk and unhand him.

Khun just snorts, and if anything, his hold on Baam gets tighter. His voice is tinged with amusement as he leans closer, lips brushing Baam’s ear. “You are drunk,” Khun informs him, “and you’re saying all your thoughts out loud.”

Baam flushes and immediately clams up. That’s enough thinking and thoughts for tonight, he decides, and is rewarded with a silver peal of Khun’s laughter.

Khun tosses and turns.

There’s no reason why he can’t sleep - the curtains are drawn and Baam’s breathing is even and quiet. He can only imagine the storm coming from Rak just next door.

Khun groans quietly. This is the worst time for his insomnia to act up - they’re planning to go to an amusement park tomorrow and damn if he’s going to be tired through all the fun.

He gropes blindly about until he finds his phone. Isu and Baam sent photos from the museum earlier; he might as well use this time to go through them and save them.

He thumbs through them quickly. Most of them are shots of Rak staring open-mouthed at the exhibits, but there are some silly shots of them looking absolutely ridiculous.

There’s a mirror shot with all of them crouching in front of four huge turtle shells, with Rak standing in the middle, cackling his head off about them finally being “turtles”. Isu’s holding the phone and yelling at them to stop squirming and to please align themselves so they all show up at the correct angle in the mirror or god so help me, my arms are gonna fucking fall off. The photo is slightly blurry with his efforts and Khun can almost hear Hatz’s helpless giggles ringing through the photo.

His thumb stills.

Picture-Baam’s arm is half-raised, fingers coming up to brush away his bangs, and picture-Khun’s arm is slung over his shoulders. PIcture-Baam’s eyes are crinkled up, mid-laugh, smile bright and golden as sunflowers and not quite as radiant as Khun knows it is in real life, but radiant all the same.

And picture-Khun is looking at him, smile soft and head slightly bowed, eyes brimming an emotion Khun does not yet know how to describe.

His thumb swipes to save the photo before he realises it, and there is a flash of an idea about setting it as his wallpaper before he is distracted by a sleepy snuffle. By the light of his phone he sees Baam spread out on his side of the bed, face-down on his pillow.

Khun frowns. There’s no way that’s good for respiration.

He reaches over and gently tugs on the pillow, enough so that Baam has to shifts his head to accommodate for the change but not enough that it wakes him up. He waits until Baam resettles, head tilted and eyelashes brushing his cheek. His mouth is slightly open, lips soft and parted, and Khun is dimly aware of the urge to brush Baam’s hair away from where it is falling across his face.

Beautiful.

The word springs, unbidden, to his mind and he freezes.

Baam. Baam, with the biggest heart of anyone he knows. Baam, with his thoughtful smile and easy laugh and the quiet way in which he lights up the room.

Baam, with the way he finishes Khun’s sentences and laughs at all of Khun’s stupid puns, with the way he understands Khun without either of them having to exchange a word, with the way his loyalty to his friends is fierce and burns with the heat of a thousand suns. Baam, with the way he fits, just right, into Khun’s side, like two hands made to hold.

Baam, with all his kindness and his constancy and his optimism and all of his warmth.

Baam, his best friend.

Khun breathes out shakily, puts his phone down, knots his fingers together, and wills himself to go to sleep.

Baam yanks his chair out from his desk. He’s sopping wet and his bangs keep dripping in his eyes and his goddamn bag is soaked and he feels that awful discomfort of clothes sticking to his skin and really, all he wants to do is take a warm shower and curl into his bed and forget this day ever happened.

“Your mood,” Isu remarks from his bed, “seems to be absolutely foul.”

“You think?” Baam snarls.

Isu blinks, then shuts his laptop. “Wanna talk about it?”

Got caught in the rain, he wants to say. Got called out in class to answer a question about the reading I didn’t do. Got leered at by some creep on the street. But everything is stuck on the top of his tongue, dwarfed by a bigger truth threatening to slip out.

Got stood up for lunch by Khun again.

“Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here to listen,” Isu says, voice soft and gaze even softer.

Just like that, Baam feels the angry knot in his chest loosen, gently unwound by the unquestioning kindness in Isu’s voice. He lets his backpack tumble to his chair, then sinks, wet clothes and all, onto the floor.

He opens his mouth, intending to apologise for snapping at Isu, but all that slips out is a sob.

Immediately Isu is on his knees, hugging him tight and cradling Baam’s head. Baam tries to bat him off, tries to say through a nose full of snot, I’m getting your clothes drenched with rainwater, but Isu just swipes Baam’s bangs away from his forehead and hugs him again.

“Go take a warm shower,” Isu says, “I’ll make tea, and you can tell me what happened.”

Baam nods, and Isu herds him off the floor and into their bathroom.

He tries to get his shit together in the shower, and emerges ten minutes later, red-eyed and sniffly-nosed, to Isu’s promised cup of tea. It takes five minutes for him to gloss through the shit-show that was class, then another five for him to meander around the topic of Khun.

Isu leans back, finally. “You were meant to meet Khun for lunch, but he stood you up and you’re upset because it’s the second time this week he’s done it without warning.”

“I mean... yes, but now that you put it like that, it sounds like such a stupid reason to be upset, I sound so stupidly clingy-“ Baam falters.

“Do you know why he didn’t show up?”

Baam looks down at the chip in his mug. It fits the shape of his fingernail exactly, almost as if he could have, at one point, dug his fingernails in so deep he chipped the mug himself.

“Yeah,” Baam says at last, “He was meeting his partner for their marketing project.”

“The marketing genius? The one he’s been nattering on about for the past two weeks?”

Baam swallows the bitter taste in his mouth that really has no reason to be there. There’s an uncomfortable knot in his throat, and he sighs. “The first time, I waited twenty minutes before I called and he picked up and apologised for losing track of time because he was talking to her. Which is fine, you know, we all do it.”

“And this time?”

“Called a couple times but he didn’t even pick up the phone. And it was raining, so I thought he might have been trying to wait out the rain and lost battery or something, or maybe something important popped up, so I ran through the rain to the business building to look for him, but he was just standing in the lobby of the building talking to his project partner and laughing with her and-“ Suddenly there’s a lump in his throat that he can’t speak around, and he falls silent.

It’s so stupid, he thinks. He’s acting like a spoilt child, crying because he doesn’t have someone’s undivided attention. It’s so, so stupid that he thought he had a monopoly on Khun’s time, that he thought he was so important that-

“It sounds,” Isu says carefully, “like you’re upset that he didn’t respect your time, and that he temporarily held time with his project partner in higher regard than time with you. Combined with the rest of your day, it’s understandable that it’d be a last straw.” He’s squinting at Baam, as though he doesn’t expect to be right, as though he expects there to be something more but can’t quite put his finger on what it is.

Baam nods at him anyway, but there’s an unsavoury, wiggling feeling at the bottom of his stomach that laughs at that.

If it wasn’t Khun, you wouldn’t have minded as much, it taunts him. If it was Hatz, you’d have just brushed it off as his scatterbrain and just waited out the rain. But it was something about seeing Khun with that girl that made you so upset you had to run home in the rain, wasn’t it? I think you’re-

“You’re jealous,” Isu says, slight incredulity colouring his tone as he arrives as the same conclusion. He rocks back in his chair slightly, and repeats, “My god, you’re jealous.”

Baam chokes. He briefly considers denying Isu’s scarily accurate mind-reading, but his head is so, so heavy, and there’s a tiny bloom of relief now that the nasty knot in his throat has finally been given a name.

He lets his head hit the table, and his question comes out more like a smothered whine. “How do I make it stop?”

He feels Isu’s fingers tap along the table as he works out the answer to Baam’s question.

“You’re acting like you’ve just got your heart broken,” Isu says, after a while. “I think that should tell you something.”

“I’m not in love with him,” Baam says, protest dulled and muffled. “I’m not.”

Isu remains silent.

“I’m not,” Baam insists. “He’s my best friend.”

He waits for the familiar bloom of pride he gets whenever Khun introduces him to someone as his best friend, but the words ‘best friend’ no longer taste like they used to.

“He’s my best friend,” he says again. As the words leave his mouth, Baam no longer quite knows who it is that he’s insisting to.

(Khun knocks on his door that night to apologise. Baam takes a deep breath and they both ignore his red eyes and pretend nothing ever happened.)

Baam shifts. It’s warm under the blanket and really, if someone could turn that fucking alarm off and let him sleep a couple more minutes, it’d be great.

There’s a slight shift behind him, and a small whine comes from the crook of his neck.

Baam freezes, suddenly more awake. There’s a heavy, warm sort of weight around his waist and a cool press against his calves. He doesn’t dare open his eyes to see what they might be.

This can’t be happening, he tells himself, then nearly laughs aloud. Of course it’s a dream, Baam thinks. His unconscious must have lifted something out of all the things he’s never allowed himself to consider, much less daydream about, and stuffed them all into a dream-

Lips brush the back of his neck and Baam’s mind stops working.

He’s sure his heart is thumping loud enough to wake Khun up, but Khun just mumbles against his neck again, whispers of a breath making Baam’s hair stand on end. “The alarm-“

He feels Khun still. Stars burn and burst and civilisations rise and fall in the spaces between Baam’s heartbeats. He can almost hear the cogs in Khun’s brain turning, and he’s so busy trying to keep his heart still and his breathing even that he thinks he imagines the barest press of lips on the back of his neck before Khun pulls away.

He nearly whimpers at the loss of contact, but Khun has already shut off the infernal alarm and is shaking him awake, hand warm against his shoulder.

Khun’s voice is rough with sleep and something else as he tells Baam to get up and get dressed for breakfast. Baam tries not to think about it.

Isu is convinced Baam just needs to go out more and meet people that don’t live with him and are not Khun.

Baam disagrees.

He doesn’t understand why Isu is squeezed onto his bed next to him, flicking through Tinder and showing him faces that frankly, look nothing close to Khun’s. “I’m not interested in dating anyone,” Baam mutters for the fourth time.

“You’re not interested in dating anyone that isn’t Khun,” Isu corrects. He swipes left a couple times, then frowns. “How about this one?”

Baam groans, and shoves him lightly. “Get off my bed, Isu, your bed is literally three feet away.”

“You can’t see faces on this screen from three feet away-“

“I don’t want to-“

“Listen, Baam, you want to get over Khun? Go on some dates. Seven billion people on this earth and you think that blue shrimp is The One?”

“I don’t think he’s anything, he’s just my best friend-“ Baam falters under Isu’s withering look. He has to admit that even to himself, his repeated denials have sounded particularly pathetic as of late.

“You’re not fooling anyone,” Isu says finally, setting his phone down. “I’ve seen the way you look at him, and frankly? It reminds me of the way I used to look at Hatz.”

Baam’s eyes widen. “Hatz?! But-“

Isu waves him away. “Briefly thought I fancied him way back in ninth grade. Had a whole dramatic little crisis about pining after my straight best friend too, it was a nightmare for my mum.”

“And then what happened?” Baam’s voice is smaller than he intends.

Isu snorts, tipping his head back and letting it hit the wall, “Then I went on a date with someone else and realised that I was an absolute fool and Hatz wasn’t all that great, that’s what happened. My mum’s theory is that since there wasn’t anyone else in the picture, my brain went for the only one who would show me affection. Which was really stupid, because something in me already knew that even if Hatz and I were soulmates, we’re in no way relationship material, you know? It just took me a little nudge to better figure out what I wanted in a relationship and realise that Hatz wasn’t it.” He chances a look at Baam, and exhales a shaky laugh, looking back up at the ceiling. “Don’t tell him, though, don’t want to get his ego to get more inflated than it already is.”

Baam looks up at him. He sees how Isu’s biting his lip and avoiding his gaze, and he sees how Isu’s sharing a part of himself that he’s never told anyone, how Isu’s just really and sincerely trying to help. “I’d never.”

And so he agrees. He agrees to let Isu set him up on dates and he agrees to sit down and figure out what it is he wants. Because it can’t be - and it shouldn’t be - Khun. It can’t be Khun and his smart quips and his messy bangs and the way he smiles at Baam like Baam’s the only thing in his world and the way that makes Baam’s heart skip a beat every time.

(Khun catches him, one day, stumbling out the dorm, running late to a date with some girl named Endorsi? Androssi? “Where you headed? Wanna get dinner?”

“Maybe later,” Baam mumbles, distracted and looking at everywhere else but Khun, “I’m late to a… to a date.”

Then he slips away, like sand between Khun’s fingers, and Khun tells himself for the rest of the day that the hollow feeling in his chest is because his professor only gave him an A- on that marketing project that he and Yuri slaved away over.)

“If I have to go on another rollercoaster, I’m going to throw up,” Isu warns the group. He’s bent over heaving, hands on his knees, and his glare just makes Hatz laugh even harder.

Khun chuckles and takes pity on him. “You all go on ahead, I’ll take this one and get us snacks. We’ll meet you at the exit of the next coaster.”

It takes all of two seconds for Hatz and Rak to cheer and haul Baam off to the next one.

“You didn’t want to get on another one too, huh?” Isu whispers conspiratorially, bumping his shoulder against Khun’s.

Khun snorts, “I can handle a couple more-“

“Liar!” Isu sings, and winds his arm around Khun’s shoulders. Khun bats him off, laughing, and they head over to the nearest concession stand.

Isu orders them hotdogs, but the churros in the display case catches Khun’s eye. A vague memory of Baam mentioning churros flashes in Khun’s mind and he makes a quick decision.

“And a churro,” Khun tacks on, then fishes out his wallet.

Isu eyes him. “Hungry?”

Khun shakes his head. “Baam likes churros, he hasn’t had them in a while.”

Isu just looks at him strangely, then turns to collect their orders from the operator.

Khun frowns. Should he have gotten all of them churros? Hatz doesn’t like sugary things, though-

As they walk back, foil-wrapped hotdogs and churro in hand, he hears Isu whistle quietly. He bumps his hip against Khun’s, and nods over to their right. “Look at that guy.”

Khun glances up, trying to keep the mini hotdog-churro mountain in his hand from toppling. The guy in question has short silver hair barely covered by a backwards cap and eyes red as a snake’s. The flimsy white tank top he has on leaves little to the imagination, and from the way he looks positively sculpted, Khun can see why Isu singled him out.

“Right Baam’s type, isn’t he?” Isu says, and Khun nearly drops the churro.

“Baam-“ he splutters, trying to salvage the churro from where it’s clamped in the turn of his wrist. “Baam’s type?”

“Yeah. You think he’s Baam’s type?”

“I don’t know, he’s only ever dated girls-“

“You’re his best friend and you never once asked? Also, he’s only had one girlfriend, but I set him up with all genders-“

“You set him up?!”

“For the whole of freshman spring, you fool, did you never catch on?”

“He’s never mentioned it-“

“That’s because he wasn’t interested in any of them, and I tried my best, mind you-“

“And that’s Baam’s type?” Khun twists slightly to look back at the man.

Isu bites his lip, grinning, and Khun has a strange feeling Isu’s just making it up in his head.

“He isn’t, is he?” Khun says, and ignores the way his heart lifts slightly.

“You’ll just have to ask,” Isu sings, and Khun groans.

Before he can think too much about why he even wants to find out in the first place, they see a brown blur barrelling towards them, and Khun has to take a step back to avoid being ran over by Rak.

Hatz and Baam are slower to head towards them, still talking about the animatronics in their last ride. Isu hands Hatz his hotdog, and Khun is about to tell Baam that hey, the concession stand was selling churros and I remember you mentioned a while ago-

“The animatronics were really cool, Khun, you should have seen it. You would have liked them.” Baam’s eyes are shining, soft muted gold, and Khun finds himself smiling softly back.

“I’ll go with you next time,” Khun promises, and is rewarded with Baam’s breathless beam.

(“Gross,” Hatz mutters, mouth full of mustard. Isu isn’t sure if he’s talking about the way Khun and Baam can’t stop looking at each other or if it’s the obscene amount of mustard he slathered onto Hatz’s hotdog as a joke.)

As it turns out, Baam gets along with all the people Isu sets him up with like a house on fire.

Not in the way Isu expects, of course. Baam finds out that Wangnan was forced to do it by his friends too, and they spend an hour commiserating over meddling friends with good intentions before realising they share their sociolinguistics class and move on to commiserating over that too. Ehwa is slightly clumsy with her words, but is completely endearing, and when she admits to Baam that she’s not really looking for a relationship because she’s still hung up over an ex, Baam finds himself equal parts relieved and sympathetic. Urek confesses that his main motive for downloading the app is to convince people to join his school’s flailing LGBTQ club, but it backfires when they realise they attend different colleges. Baam laughs and agrees to attend some of Urek’s club events anyway.

He ends up great friends with all of them, and with the flow and ebb of the semester, ends up spending less time in his dorm than usual.

“Getting popular, huh,” Khun says one day, as Baam taps out a reply to Ehwa that absolutely yes, he‘d love to hear about the new boy she’s been seeing. Baam hums distractedly in response, and sets his phone down when Khun sighs.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time out of the dorm,” Khun tries again.

Baam blinks. “Some of my friends living in different residence halls.”

“You’ve been spending less time with us,” Khun clarifies. Baam wishes he could see Khun’s eyes to figure out what he’s thinking, but Khun’s frowning down at his nails.

“You jealous?” The words slip out of his mouth before he can help it, and he nearly laughs at their irony.

Khun glances sharply at him, full force of a blue stare wiping away Baam’s smile. He’s looking straight at Baam with a seriousness that they’ve never shared in their nearly-two semesters of friendship, and there follows a moment of silence so loud that it echoes in Baam’s ears and with each beat of his heart Baam knows that Isu is wrong, Isu is wrong, Isu is wrong and that there will never be anyone for him but Khun.

Suddenly Khun blinks and he’s pouting, lower lip jutting out in petulance. “So what if I am?”

(When Hatz walks in, he says Baam laughed so loudly he could hear him all the way from the lift.)

Rak eyes Baam’s hotdog. He’s long since finished his, but Baam’s been stuck, starry-eyed, on the churro Khun bought for him, and Rak grumbles to himself that if Baam doesn’t get started on that hotdog soon he’ll rip it out of Baam’s hands and inhale it himself.

“Baam? Is that you?”

An unfamiliar man is standing behind them, head cocked to the side and unzipped hoodie barely clinging onto his biceps. Rak winces as Isu grabs his shoulder and whispers, “It’s him!”

Before Rak can ask Isu what he’s talking about, Baam has burst into a smile - “Urek!”

“Baam, baby, I knew it was you!”

Rak blinks. Baby?

He wants to ask Isu about this strange man with silver hair, but everyone’s mouth hangs open as Urek envelopes Baam in a bone-crushing hug and lifts him off the ground.

“Thought I wasn’t going to see you again, not with my club leaving for our trip two days before your finals ended, but I’m so glad to see you, babe-“

Isu issues a faint squeak as Urek plants a loud smack on Baam’s forehead, and clutches Rak’s shoulder even tighter.

Rak turns to Isu. “Explain,” he demands, under his breath.

“I thought he looked familiar when I saw him just now, fuck- I set up him with Baam ages ago, back in freshman spring, I thought nothing came of it since Baam talks about him like he’s just a friend but-“

“But babe?” Rak hisses. Khun isn’t going to like this, he thinks. He’s going to go into one of his infamous sulks and Baam’s going to be the only one who can pull him out of it, and good fucking luck to whoever gets the job of explaining to Baam why Khun was sulking in the first place.

“So you gonna introduce me to your friends, Baam?” The man says, slinging his arm around Baam and smiling genially at everyone. Baam’s smile is so wide it nearly cracks his face in half, and Rak wonders faintly how Khun is faring.

“Everyone, this is Urek, he goes to the college uptown. Urek, these are my best friends Hatz, Isu, Rak and... where’s Khun?”

Rak pauses as everyone turns to look around. He swears Khun was right beside Hatz half a second ago, but there’s absolutely no trace of him now. Half of Rak is relieved that he’s not on the other end of one of Khun’s patented glares, but the other half of him knows Khun well enough that he can smell the Brood building just right round the corner.

He sighs, and gently disentangles Isu’s arm from his. “He mentioned something about needing to run to the washroom, I’ll go see if he’s there.”

Rak waves a friendly goodbye at Urek, and as he walks away to search for a flash of blue hair, he hears a sly, “Oh, Khun? Your Khun?” and Baam’s flustered spluttering.

Ah.

He spots a messy blue flash a little ways down from them, and hurries over before Khun can see him.

“So,” Rak says by way of greeting. He clamps a hand on Khun’s shoulder as Khun turns, blue eyes flashing in surprise, “Our mighty Khun has run away.”

“I’m not running from anything,” Khun mutters, turning away again, “I just... saw this really interesting... thing and came over to look at it.”

“Terribly fascinating, these... uh,” Rak follows Khu’s gaze, “these trash cans.”

“They... they might talk.”

“Talking trash cans.” Rak is unimpressed, and he makes sure to let it into his tone.

He crosses his arms and lets Khun avoid his gaze for a few more seconds. Khun’ll start talking soon, Rak knows - he hates awkwardness, especially when they’re centred around him.

“He’s… he does seem close to Baam, isn’t he?” Khun says, eventually. He still hasn’t taken his eyes off the trash cans, and Rak briefly considers tossing Khun into one.

“I don’t know, you tell me. You’re his best best friend.”

There’s a flash of a wince before Khun’s cool mask is back. “He hasn’t told me anything about that guy.”

Rak waits.

“He’d… he’d tell me if they were dating, wouldn’t he?” Khun’s eyebrows are furrowed. “Why hasn’t he said anything about being someone’s… someone’s babe?”

Khun spits out the last word with so much disgust that Rak nearly laughs. “You’re an idiot,” Rak chooses to say instead.

He waits for Khun to look up before continuing, “You’re an idiot and lest you forget, you're his best friend-“

“Just his best friend-“

“-and what that means is that if he hasn’t told you anything about this guy giving him pet names, it probably isn’t significant enough to him and he hasn’t feel the need to mention it. To you or to any of us. Whoever Urek is, he doesn’t mean anything to Baam other than a friend, and you, of all people, shouldn’t worry that Baam is keeping anything from us. He’s your best friend, Khun. Trust him.”

Khun lowers his head, worrying a fingernail between his teeth. They remain silent for a moment, until Rak finally processes what Khun has said.

“Just his best friend?” Rak tries not to smile too widely. “You looking to be something more, then?”

Khun freezes slightly, then lets out a laugh that is far too cheery. “Course not.”

Rak isn’t as smart or perceptive as Isu is, he knows, but he likes to think that after more than two years of friendship, he can read Khun pretty well too. He kicks lightly at the trash cans, and offers quietly, “I know his friendship is valuable to you - I know all of our friendships are - but I don’t know if you see the way Baam looks at you sometimes. There’s… there’s something different there. There’s something there that Hatz doesn’t have with Isu. And I know you’re afraid of losing him, and you’re afraid taking the chance that one day he might leave you behind but… for what my opinion is worth, I think Baam might be a chance worth taking.”

He watches Khun take one breath, two, three. Khun’s hands are balled up into fists and Rak can see the cogs turning as Khun processes and reprocesses what Rak is presenting to him.

When Khun speaks, his voice is small. “The way Baam looks at me?”

“You’ve been walking around him with your eyes closed, haven’t you - he looks at you the same way you look at him.”

Khun’s mouth opens, as if in denial, and Rak huffs. “He looks at you like if you were to hypothetically be more than best friends with him… he looks at you as if he might like that.”

Khun shuts his mouth. He stays lost in thought for a while, and Rak feels an itch on the back of his neck like someone is watching him. He suddenly remembers the way they have left Baam and Hatz and Isu standing, waiting for them, and curses. “Come on, they’re looking for you. Should I tell them you were jealous that someone called Baam baby or should I tell them you were entranced by talking trash cans?”

Khun flushes and turns to walk away from said trash cans, tossing Rak two fingers.

Rak just cackles.

The first snow of sophomore year falls on a Tuesday.

Baam wakes up to a flurry of white outside his window, and as he trudges through the ankle-high slush and the snowflakes that threaten to glue his eyelashes together, he realises he forgot to bring gloves.

Ah, well. He’ll just suffer, then.

His phone buzzes with non-stop texts from Hatz and Isu all throughout his second lecture of the day, and he fumbles to set it on Do Not Disturb when his TA starts glancing over at him.

Best Roommate Ever: snowing!!!! Fencing Champion: snowball fight in the park, 2pm Best Roommate Ever: bring it on bro I’m not scared of you Fencing Champion: yeah, not scared of me keeping my winning streak alive Alligator Overlord: get ready to get SMUSHED, cowards, the Great Rak is coming Khun: good lord, y’all couldn’t wait until classes were over?

Baam bites back a grin, heart oddly warm, and he finds himself unable to sit still for the remainder of the lecture. He ends up counting down the minutes to the end of class, and as soon as it hits 1.45pm he tosses his notes into his bag and his scarf around his neck.

He is the first one out of the building, and nearly blows by the person leaning by the entrance. The person reaches forward and tugs on his backpack, and Baam turns around, startled, only to come face to face with Khun.

“Woah there,” Khun laughs, arms reaching out to steady him. “In a rush?”

Baam grins in response. “Left my gloves at the dorm, thought I’d go grab them before meeting everyone for the snowball fight. Wanna come with?”

Khun raises an eyebrow, and produces Baam’s gloves from his own pocket and holds them up to Baam.

“Absolute hero,” Baam beams, and he tries to tamp down the wonderful sort of warmth curling out from his heart all the way down to his toes. “How’d you know?”

Khun shrugs. “You always forget your gloves. Thought I’d just let myself in and check if you did.”

He hands Baam his gloves, and wait for him to put them on before they begin the cold and slippery trek to the park.

Isu and Hatz are already there, wrapped in beanies and scarves and long winter coats.

“Get ready to get wrecked, losers!” Isu calls out, waving to them.

“Where’s Rak?”

“Rak’s here,” comes Rak’s voice, somewhere near Baam’s feet. He’s lying on his back, limbs spread out and tongue sticking out. “Mm trying to catch snowflakes.”

Baam just laughs, and helps him up. There are already multiple groups spread across the grass, flinging snowballs at each other with peals of laughter carrying in the wind.

“We’re thinking a three versus two game,” Isu offers, now that Rak is back on his feet. “How do we want to split?”

They decide on rock, paper, scissors, and by some feat of magic (“Manipulation,” Hatz insists), Khun emerges on top.

“You get first pick,” Hatz tells him, “but the other side gets the third person.”

Khun twists to look at Baam. “How’s your aim?”

“Terrible,” Baam answers honestly, and Khun grins with far too much delight.

“Great. I want Baam.”

“No cheating,” Hatz warns. “Just the both of you.”

Khun bumps his shoulder against Baam’s and grins at him, eyes sparkling with mischief, “Always been us, hasn’t it?”

And when Baam laughs, full and delighted, Khun swings, hidden snowball hitting Hatz right between the eyes.

(Baam dreams about us sometimes. He dreams of an us, a universe in which Khun is ice and he is fire, and they burn together in an endless firework instead of melting into a tepid puddle.

He dreams of a Khun that hurtles through space and time, and of a Baam that will rip rifts into the fabric of the universe if it means he can follow wherever Khun goes.

He dreams of a Baam that spins illusions out of thin air in a circus for those without a home, and a Khun that tells the future and flips cards and is the flip side of his card, the way people are in the best sort of love stories.

He dreams of a Khun that wraps his hand around Baam’s and tips their foreheads together in soft moonlight, and of a Baam that is brave enough to rest his head against Khun’s heart, finally brave enough to dance with him to the quiet song that is three o’clock.

He dreams of a Baam that charges into battle, cloaked in red, sword drawn and burning with the rage of a thousand souls, and of a Khun that grits his teeth and charges in right behind him.

He tells Isu about the latest of his strange dreams one day, and Isu just laughs.

“Of course he would,” Isu says, picking up his book again. “Khun looks at you as if he’d follow you around anywhere.”)

“Come on, eat faster, we’re gonna miss good spots for the fireworks!”

“What good spots?” Khun snorts. “In case you forget, fireworks are in the sky. Anywhere’s a good spot.”

Rak levels Khun a glare, and brandishes a fry in his face. “Not if the only place left is under an awning and all our views are blocked. Remember junior year?”

Everyone groans at the memory and starts eating slightly faster - they waited for the fireworks to signal the end of the pride parade, but when the fireworks started and they finally clambered outside of the coffee shop they were waiting in, all they could see was the red underbelly of an awning that desperately needed a clean.

“So,” Baam says, “Urek asks if we want to meet his club for lunch tomorrow.”

There is instant reaction around the table - Rak drops a fry on the ground and squawks, and Isu chokes on his soda. Hatz has to thump him hard on the back before Isu inhales, red-faced. He flashes a grin at Baam, “Why don’t you ask Khun?”

Khun looks up from where he is staring daggers at the table, and frowns. Why me? He wants to ask, but Baam has already turned to him, eyes hopeful and fingers poised over his keyboard.

He swallows hard. As much as he doesn’t like Urek (Which doesn’t make sense, by the way, a small voice in his head tells him primly. Urek’s been nothing but friendly to you.) he doesn’t want to be the one to deny Baam anything. “If you want to, sure.”

Hatz huffs in annoyance, and Khun shoots him a look. What’s with all his friends today, he wants to demand. First with Isu joking about Baam’s type, then Rak being uncharacteristically insightful about things Khun doesn’t want to think about, and now Hatz? But he sees an opening to get answers, and he goes in for the kill.

He turns to Baam, and slaps on a smirk. “So he’s your type, huh?”

Baam’s mouth hangs open, a faint blush painting his cheeks. “He’s- what- he-” Baam flaps his hands in Khun’s direction. “What made you think that?”

Khun affects a casual shrug. “Looked like you were pretty pleased to see him.”

“He’s a friend from uptown,” Baam says. “Nothing like my type.”

“And what would that be?” Khun says, then makes the mistake of looking into Baam’s eyes. Like honey, he thinks, dazed, the kind that is sweet and sticky and impossible to ever escape once you’ve fallen in.

He nearly misses Baam’s nonchalant answer, delivered as if he’d rehearsed in his mind a thousand times before. “You know, kind, smart, resourceful. Takes the time to get to know me. Same sense of humour. Always knows what to say. Remembers the small details about me, stuff like that.”

There’s a snort from the other end of the table that sounds suspiciously like sounds a lot like Khun, but the tips of Baam’s ears are red as he breaks eye contact with Khun and he’s pouting so fiercely at Isu that Khun’s mind nearly goes blank at how… how cute it is.

But Rak is growling at them about how if they don’t finish eating in five minutes he’s going to head out to see the fireworks without them, and so Khun’s mind shuts up pretty quickly.

(They manage to find a good spot, of course. Not many awnings in amusement parks.)

The first firework to go up is red, and the crowd oohs and aahs as their video cameras capture the peony bursting into a thousand tiny stars. The next one is a yellow brocade, and as the golden stars fade away, Khun can’t help but think that it doesn’t quite match the golden of Baam’s eyes.

Baam.

He turns to his side, shoulder brushing Baam’s, and is stunned to see Baam already looking at him.

Baam blinks rapidly at having been caught, and Khun can see a small flush making its way up his face in the dim light. Khun’s eyes unconsciously trail down, a small part of his mind wondering, wandering-

Khun finds himself leaning in, and his eyes dart back up to Baam’s, suddenly closer than they’ve ever been. They are full of… hesitance, Khun thinks. Hesitance and a quiet sort of yearning and something that resembles hopefulness that makes Khun’s heart flip in a peculiar sort of way.

He opens his mouth, but under the bursts of the fireworks and the thunder of his own heartbeat, he finds that for the first time in his life he cannot think of anything to say to his best friend.

He doesn’t know how long they stay like this, encased in all the things Khun doesn’t know how to put into words, a frozen bubble of their own, but all too soon the lights are flickering back on in the park and everyone is cheering for the fireworks display. There is a resigned sort of smile on Baam’s face as he raises his hands to join the applause, and Khun notices too late that Baam never pulled away.

“They were beautiful, weren’t they, Khun!” Hatz is saying, and Khun snaps away, shoulders jolting away from Baam’s and mouth fumbling through a yes, of course, of course.

When Khun is five, his sister tells him about her first boyfriend. What kind of person do you want to date in ten years, Khun? Khun thinks about it, and tells her, with all the gravity a five-year-old can muster, someone who eats all my carrots so I don’t have to. His sister bursts out laughing, then hauls him onto her lap. My boyfriend is tall and smart and handsome, she says, tickling his sides. Will you be tall and smart and handsome too? But he’s wriggling around too much to answer, answering shrieks of laughter echoing down the hallway.

When Khun is eight, he comes back from school with a backpack full of chocolates on Valentine’s Day, and when his mother laughs and asks him who he got them all from, he shrugs. Here and there, he tells her, and he hands her the stack of letters he gets along with them for her perusal. You didn’t open any of them, she says, but he has already wandered off. He ends up stuffing some chocolate into his sister’s jacket pocket, and when she disappears that night he wonders if she ever finds them.

When Khun is ten, his sister comes back home, bruised and empty. She sometimes forgets the motions she needs to go through to love herself again, Khun’s mother tells him, so he needs to love her extra until she remembers. He hears - he can still hear - the quiet, trembling way she tries to rebuild herself and when he climbs into her bed to hug her and pepper her forehead with kisses the same way their mum does, he tells her it’s okay to cry, and he tells himself that he will never let someone consume him the way that monster has consumed her, because even at the age of ten Khun has come to learn that sometimes the wounds that hurt the most are the ones that don’t show scars.

When Khun is fourteen, Novick gets a crush for the first time. He tells Khun all about her after school one day, and Khun nods politely in all the right places while trying to solve a rubix cube. How do you know? Khun asks, hands fiddling with his cube. How do you know you like her? Novick flops over onto his bed and sighs. Can’t get her out of my mind, Novick says. I can’t stop wanting to make her smile.

When Khun is seventeen, Dan applies to the same college his partner does. You’ll regret it, Khun and Novick tell him. Think about what college is best for your education, not who’s going to go there, but Dan just laughs. It’s a reach school anyway, he says. He might not make it in. But he’s test-savvy, and he does, and when it comes down to the decision between Khun’s school and theirs, Dan chooses them. Don’t sacrifice your future for someone you might not even remember down the road, it doesn’t make sense, Novick tells him, and tosses a pen at his head. Love isn’t supposed to make sense anyway, Dan grins, and that’s that.

When Khun is eighteen, he comes back to Dan and Novick for the summer with one name on his tongue. He tells them all about Baam and the way Baam’s eyes sparkle when he’s excited and the way he hates pickles and the way he laughs at all the bad jokes everyone else groans at. He talks about Baam until Novick swipes him on the head and laughs. You talk about him so much it’s insane. You in love, bro? And Khun remembers the flames that burned his sister, the way love ate and ate and ate away at her until she had to build herself again, and he bites his tongue and shakes his head, insistent. I’m not.

When Khun is twenty two, alone in a hotel room crowded with his own thoughts at two am while his best friend lingers outside, he calls Dan and Novick. They hear the worry of fingernail between his teeth, and they ask him what’s wrong, Khun, what’s wrong, and joke about how they’ll help him hide the body. He takes a deep breath, and whispers, I think I’m in love with him.

And just like that, the dam breaks.

He tells them about the way he cannot stop thinking about Baam - the way he has never stopped thinking about Baam since the day they met - and the way he’d do anything to make Baam smile. He tells them about the way Baam’s eyes shine a soft, subdued gold when he’s thoughtful and a fierce, flashing gold when he gets worked up, and the way Khun has tried his best but has never quite figured out if it’s the gold of dusk or dawn. He tells them about the way something inside him aches when Baam looks away, the way Khun’s hands itch to hold his every time they touch.

He tells them about the way Baam eats his carrots (Novick laughs) and the way Baam has a stupid sweet tooth that can only be satisfied with copious amounts of chocolate and the way he walked forty blocks once just to find the sort of chocolate Baam likes because he knew that Baam’s beam at the end of it would be worth it. He tells them about the way Baam looked, under the dim light of the fireworks, the way Baam looked at him, hopeful and yearning and sad all at once, and the way Khun wanted nothing more than to kiss him in that moment. He tells them about what Rak said, about the way Baam looks at him, and the way he looks at Baam and how the past few years suddenly clicked and made sense.

He tells them about the way he’s discovered that Baam has dismantled him, piece by piece, and has diffused through him so thoroughly that everywhere he looks, it just echoes Baam, Baam, Baam, and as a tear rolls down his cheek he tells them about the way it doesn’t make sense, because he’s told himself that nobody is supposed to cut through him like this.

Love isn’t supposed to make sense, Dan says. Now go, go and tell him.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” Baam looks up. He watches as Khun emerges from the shadows, hair almost pearlescent in the sharp moonlight. His hands are stuffed in his pockets, and he looks almost nervous waiting for Baam to allow him to sit.

Baam shifts, and he settles down next to where Baam is sitting on the curb, hugging his legs and chin on his knees. The curb is narrow, and Khun is nearly totally pressed up against Baam by the time he’s fully sat down, adopting the same pose Baam is.

Baam swallows. He feels the warmth of Khun’s leg through his own jeans, and the dangerous brush of Khun’s hand on his.

“Nice night.” Khun comments.

Baam hums in response. It is - the stars have all come out in this dark distance between them and the city, and the only things Baam can hear is the song of the cicadas and the low buzz from the neon sign outside the hotel.

“What brings you outside at 3am?”

Everything, Baam thinks. You. Me. What I want us to be but daren’t ask for.

The way I keep replaying that moment under the fireworks in my head. The way that when I close my eyes, I keep seeing the way you looked at me, keep feeling the brush of your shoulder against mine, but knowing it doesn’t mean the same thing to you as it does to me. The way that even if it did, you’d never act on it, and oh, the way I wish you would.

“Too stuffy,” Baam says instead.

“Me too,” Khun says, and his voice is so close, so close to Baam’s ear that he’s sure if he just turns his head a fraction Khun’s lips will be there. “Too many thoughts for one small room, you know?”

Baam swallows again, and stays still.

“Baam,” Khun murmurs. His voice sounds slightly strangled and all sorts of breathless, and it takes everything in Baam not to shiver in response.

“Baam, look at me, please.”

And so Baam does, because he never can resist when it is Khun asking. He turns, and he sees the way the moonlight dances between Khun’s eyelashes, the way it brushes Khun’s cheeks and makes him glow, makes him look so ethereal that it makes Baam’s chest hurt.

He sees the way Khun’s eyes are soft and open and willing Baam to understand, but fierce and determined and brilliant all at once. They shine, and Baam’s breath stutters.

He wants to look away, wants to pry himself away from the trainwreck of a memory he knows he’s going to form, the memory he knows will replay in his mind’s eye over and over again when he lays down to sleep at night.

But Khun is beautiful, and Baam cannot take his eyes off of him.

Beautiful. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.

And suddenly Khun is leaning over, hand warm on Baam’s jaw, eyes questioning, pleading, and Baam feels himself melt into Khun, carried by the ache of want he has hauling around by himself the past four years.

Khun tastes like iced coffee, like sunlight glinting off of fresh snow. He tastes like the crackle of lightning, like a multitude of city lights, like the sound of snowballs skimming across a frozen pond. He tastes like Baam has always thought of and more, lips slotting into Baam’s the way he has slotted himself into the space between Baam’s heartbeats, and Baam isn’t sure if he ever wants Khun to pull away.

And when they do break apart, it is with the feeling that everything in the world has snapped into place, brighter, clearer, right.

“I’m sorry it’s taken me this long,” Khun murmurs. “But I’m here now, and I don’t think I ever want to leave.”

====

anyway i just graduated and now i miss my friends and i don’t know what to do with my life what’s up with y’all

#tower of god #tog #khunbaam #khunbam #vivi writes #what's up folks i haven't written a full fic in close to two years #anyway i'm not posting this on ao3 firstly bc . i don't have an ao3 acc #if anyone could help that would be very helpful #used the morpheme help twice! i'm never going to write 15k words ever again #chopped some too bc i was so scared this wasnt gonna fit in the tumblr character count #catch my old fandom references LOL #but also if you know where the title is from high five ayeeeee jj lin ballad king #除了爱你还能爱谁 is a masterpiece and none of you can tell me otherwise

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swiftlymoniquesblog · 4 years

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Lightweight- Dean x Reader

A/N: I got super carried away with this one, but as I working on my writing challenge last night, I heard this song, and thought Dean was perfect for it. Please listen to the song as you read this. I had this playing on repeat as I wrote it so I feel you need to listen as you read to get the full affect. (Click the word ‘lightweight’ for the song)

Lyrics are in italics. Masterlist

*I DO NOT OWN ANY RIGHTS TO THIS SONG!*

Song: Lightweight by Demi Lovato

Warnings: Dean being cute (that’s a whole warning itself) soft!Dean, tons of fluff, mentions of sexual abuse (if you read carefully) anxiety, lack of sleep, missing someone, loneliness

Word Count: 3,472

The slightest words you said, have all gone to my head, I hear angels sing in your voice.

“Hey sweetheart, I was wondering if you, uh, maybe wanted to go somewhere with me?” Dean had asked you out of the blue.

It took you by surprise because you could never tell what was going on inside his head. He was a closed book, shut off to the world outside of Sam and, on a rare occasion, you. The two of you had been spending a lot of your free time together, a routine that had become normal for you. From the first moment he woke up, you were on his mind. He’d get out of bed, clean the sleep out of his eyes, quickly dress and freshen up, before heading out to the War Room of the Bunker. He would smile to himself when he saw how you were already nose in a book, aiding Sam on research for any upcoming cases. He left you two “nerds” to your findings until he decided you needed a break. He’d come to bother you, like a child wanting you to play with them, and he wouldn’t stop until you agreed to follow him. He would have you help him make breakfast, as music played through the kitchen, and you would dance around as he cooked. He would sing to you, blissfully unaware of the admiration his voice had brought out in you. After breakfast, he would ask you to join him in the Dean cave, for movies and reenactments of his favorite Western movies. Clint Eastwood, always on repeat, his hero, but to you, it was Dean who was the hero. The hours would pass and soon enough, it was time to end the day. This was the routine the two of you followed regularly until he decided to change things up.

“Of course, Dean, I’d go with you anywhere,” you answered him and his heart would swell right there.

He led you to the Impala, where you ventured out to your new “hangout” spot for the day. Dean had chosen a place very significant to him. This place, an area not easy to find by just anyone, was a short walk, through trees and behind rocks. In the opening, where you two would spend the day, a small but magnificent waterfall laid, adding a soothing sound of rushing water, to the already tranquil environment.

“Sometimes, when I need to get away from it all, I come here, to think, mostly.” The fact he brought you here, meant he must’ve trusted you, for no one even knew where this place was normally.

When you pull me close, feelings I've never known, they mean everything and leave me no choice.

Dean brought you out to this top-secret location because he had set up a picnic for you both. A blanket was laid out before you, plates, utensils, wine glasses, and a pizza box, sat on top. He gestured for you to sit next to him, as he grabbed a plate and placed two pizza slices down, handing the plate over to you. You thank him, taking a bite out of one of the slices, sighing happily at the sensation on your tastebuds. Smiling at you, Dean followed suit, gulping down his wine in the process. It was weird to you, you thought he didn’t drink wine, but he had drunk it anyway, a pleased smile never leaving his pink lips. When the food was near gone, he did something you wouldn’t expect him to do. Sitting with his legs bent at the knees, he grabbed your waist, pulling you right into him, between his legs. You smiled, not ever thinking he could be romantic, but here you were, sitting with him, watching the waterfall to the rocks below, fish and ducks swimming about. A feeling you never thought he would bring out in you; closeness. Dean Winchester wasn’t known to let anyone close to him, but he was being so different with you, it all made your head spin.

Light on my heart, light on my feet, light in your eyes, I can't even speak, do you even know how you make me weak?

An idea suddenly came into Dean’s head as he jumps up, you fall to the side at the loss of support.

“What are you doing?” You ask, looking to the known-killer, before you.

“Dance with me,” he said, bowing like a gentleman, and earning a laugh from you. You weren’t laughing at him, but you were laughing at how different he was being when it came to you. He knew you were more sensitive, so he had to protect you. It was only because he cared so much about your well-being, that he found himself behaving, unlike his usual self. He reached his hands out to you and pulled you to your feet, as he chose a song for you to dance to. And it wasn’t your average slow dance. No, this was a dance that you would see professionals do. He always held you close, leading you around the water’s edge. Something about dancing with him, brought light in his eyes, that you hadn’t seen from him before. You felt as though you were flying when he picked you up and spun with you. When he let you go and your dance came to an end, you had to sit; he had made you weak.

I'm a lightweight, better be careful what you say, with every word I'm blown away, you're in control of my heart.

“I had a great time today.” He said as you walked back to the car, hand-in-hand. You took note of the roughness of his palm and fingers, but that gave you a sense of protection.

When you sat in the passenger’s seat beside him, hand never leaving yours, you took that chance to look closer at his hand. You turned it over, palm up to you, and you traced the lines found there. Then your tracing went up the length of each finger, running over the callouses that had formed at the tips and on the middle part. He must’ve used those hands for some horrible things, things you couldn’t fathom, but when they were on you or holding yours, all of that faded away. There was an underlying softness that made its way to the surface when he was with you. Arriving back at the Bunker, he led you to the door of your room. It was cheesy, but he wanted to make this a real date like any other. He loved being around you and wanted to show you a good time tonight, something he didn’t do for himself too often. Unless the plethora of beer and random “chicks” could count as a good time, for anyone other than himself.

“I can’t tell you how long I wanted to do something like that with you, but I was too chicken-shit to do so,” he rubbed the back of his neck, classic Dean, you thought. “But I’m glad I took a chance and decided that you need to be treated like the queen you are,” he said, earning a blush on his cheeks.

I'm a lightweight, easy to fall, easy to break, with every move my whole world shakes, keep me from falling apart.

And after a few of these overly-romantic dates he would come up with, you felt yourself falling for him, and falling fast. In your past, similar to him, you had your heart broken so many times. You too didn’t let people in right away, but everything changed with Dean. He took the time to listen to you, to earn your trust, and wouldn’t push you into anything you weren’t comfortable with yet. But when you finally felt completely safe with him and he wanted to kiss you, you let it happen, and it was exactly what you imagined it would be like. It was soft and slow, all the longing and the built-up feelings you had accumulated for one another, was released in this one kiss. It wasn’t needy and it certainly didn’t make you think it would end with you in his bed, something you were afraid of. Because of the way you had been treated with men in the past when it came to sex, they were either too aggressive, too hard, and never listened when you told them to stop. All of these fears had clouded your head, but Dean reminded you that you were the one in control of this relationship. It was up to you when you would do anything remotely close to sex, and that mattered more to you than he probably would’ve guessed. He had become an anchor for you, and you to him, keeping one another from falling apart. With each other, anything this life would throw at you was now bearable.

Make a promise, please, you'll always be in reach, just in case I need, you there when I call.

Hunts were a different ball game now that you had crossed that line with Dean. No more, were you just the concerned friend, who usually stayed behind to call in aid when needed or to provide additional research. Now, you were the girlfriend to the eldest of the two brothers; a reason for him to come home safe. Goodbyes with him were longer and more intimate now. Laying beside him on his bed, nuzzled into his side, head on his chest and listening to the erratic rhythm of his heart, he ran his fingers along the length of your spine, cherishing this moment, before he absolutely had to leave you. Leaving you, was never easy in the beginning, but now, it was a battle for him mentally. He argued with himself to stay or go, but he ultimately knew he had a duty to himself, his father, his mother, and his younger brother, to get out there and protect what his family had built all those years ago. Without getting up, he twisted himself over to his side, so he could see your face, and he’d plant soft kisses along the crevasses of your eyes, trailing up to the top of your nose, up to your forehead, back down your nose and cheeks, until he landed back on your lips. It was moments like this, that he would hold close to him, until he got to come home, and could do this over again.

When it had grown late in the evening, and you had known they were going to be gone at least until the next day, worry had taken over your thought. Panic and the worse-case scenarios, playing out in your mind when you tried to sleep. Dean had left a sweatshirt behind, that smelled like him, for you to sleep with, but it refused to work for you. You fought over the reasons why you shouldn’t pick up the phone and call, not wanting to disturb his sleep or keep him from any research he may have been doing, but you knew, he wouldn’t mind. So, you sat up, wrapped in his hoodie, and selected his name in your contacts. Only one ring went through and soon, he was on the other end.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He asked, knowing full well why you were calling him at three in the morning.

“I haven’t been able to sleep and I just miss you,” you admit, feeling silly for being so attached to him.

“Do you have my sweater?” He asked and you nodded, although he couldn’t see it.

“I do but it’s not working. I just want you home,” you had begun to cry but quickly tried not to worry Dean.

“Baby, I can’t come home right now, it wouldn’t be safe, but I promise you, I am right here and I’ll keep my phone on and next to me, until you fall asleep again, okay?” He suggested and you agreed that might help.

“Now, I want you to listen to me. I want you to lay back down, grab my pillow from my room, and hold onto that,” and you did as he asked.

“Good, now I want you to lay the phone down close to you, and I want you to turn your video-chat option on. I need to see my girl,” he says, and you hit the camera button. Instantly, his face appeared on your phone, a smile awaiting you.

“There she is,” he said, looking to you. You noticed he was in bed too, the light from his phone illuminating his face in his darkened surroundings.

“I love you so much, baby. I promise I’ll be home soon. Hang in there for me, okay? I can’t wait to be right there next to you and attack you with kisses,” he added the last part, as a means to put you at ease, and it had.

“I love you, too,” you said, and laid the phone beside you. Soon enough, after staring at him on the opposite side of your phone, you had fallen asleep, listening to him breathe.

This is all so new, seems too good to be true, could this really be, a safe place to fall?

Your relationship with Dean was none like you had ever experienced before, this you already knew, but as time went on, and the more you fell in love with him, it seemed too good to be true. Most things had been in your life so why was this any different? How could you comfortably fall when, at any given time, he could leave you, just like the others? When you brought this to his attention, he was alarmed that you had doubted his true intentions with you. He had a rather less than perfect love-life himself, but he took the chance to let himself fall in love again, no matter how slow he had to take things, or how much he wanted to be in control. He had been hurt before too, several dozen times, but nothing like you had been.

“Sweetheart, I love you, and you know me, I don’t say those words to just anyone. I’m sorry you feel this might be too good to be true, or that I could leave you at any minute, but I want to assure you, that is the last thing I want to do. You have become my world now, my number one reason for doing anything now. It’s not just about me and Sammy anymore; you’re in this equation now. And if I think any decision isn’t the best for you too, I won’t do it. I consider you for everything I do. I’ve never been this into someone before, so this is new for me too, but I hope we can work together, and make this something really special,” he had told you and you believed, he was being sincere, something that Dean was very serious about. So, you had kissed him, harder and with more passion, that any of your previous kisses, because this one was significant, more-so than you were expecting from someone who had previously laughed at “chick-flicks.” He insisted that you would be living out a chick-flick movie because he knew how much they meant to you.

Drowned in your love, it's almost all too much, handle with care, say you'll be there.

With being this intimate with someone, some of the ugly sides of people, are bound to come out. There was one monster, you weren’t sure how Dean would handle it. But you knew it was going to rear its ugly head at some point, as all monsters do, so you figured to just be honest with him.

“Dean?” You ask, searching the Bunker for your boyfriend. The longer it took to find him, the harder this was going to be for you to admit.

“Hey, babe,” he says, popping up from the couch.

“Holy shit, don’t do that!” You fake scold him.

“Sorry baby, I was napping and heard you call, so when I guessed you were close enough, I just thought ‘why not surprise her?’ He asked, innocent in his intentions.

“Because she will kill you,” you say, only half kidding.

“Alright, m’sorry, will you forgive me?” He asked, attempting Sam’s puppy dog eyes, and failing.

“Yeah, only Sam can make good puppy dog eyes,” you joke.

“Ugh, I know! I don’t know how he does it!” Dean says, frustrated as to how his younger brother seemed to be able to get out of things with just a look.

“Okay Dean, focus,” you say, snapping your boyfriend back to you.

“Oh right, did you want to talk?” He asks, sitting down on the couch he had just woken up from and patting the empty cushion next to him.

“Um, yeah, there’s something you need to know,” you say, occupying the space next to him.

“What’s going on? Are you okay?” He begins to worry when he sees the unknown feeling in your eyes.

“Sort of, but not really. Look, I have to tell you something but I’m afraid of how you’re going to react, so please, just, handle with care, alright?” You ask, eyes searching his and he nods.

“Okay, well, I’ve recently been diagnosed with anxiety. Actually, it was before we ever started going out, but I wanted to tell you. I’ve been trying to hide it from you because I know it can be challenging and you might end up annoyed with me but I really don’t want that to happen and I feel like you should still know, because I really love you and…” you were suddenly interrupted, with a pair of lips sitting on yours. Surprised, you still kissed him, but you weren’t fully into it.

“What was that for?” You ask, looking into those emerald eyes of his.

“I’m glad you told me. I can’t imagine what that’s like for you, but you will never be annoying to me. You’re the best little thing that ever happened to me and I wouldn’t want to do anything to jeopardize that. And I say little, because you may feel taller than me, but you’ll always be smaller than me; my little girl, if you will,” you gasp, fake-hurt that your boyfriend would look at you as ‘small’ even though you were only a few inches shorter than he was.

“Look, we have to be completely honest with each other if we want this relationship to work. At least that’s what always seems to be the theme in those chick-flicks we watch all the time and don’t tell Sam I actually watch those now. I’ll never hear the end of it!” He was being super dramatic now.

“So, you aren’t mad?” You ask, bringing the subject back to your anxiety.

“Of course, I’m not mad. I’m disappointed you didn’t want to tell me at first, but I understand why you didn’t. I can be rather unpredictable and most of the time, too. Baby, I just want you to be happy and if that doesn’t always come easily to you, it’s okay. I want you to talk to me, to tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours. Even if it’s not pretty, that’s okay. I’ll be there for you, and no, I won’t sing that. Even when it feels like it’s all too much, you’re my girl; I’m in it for the good and the bad. It’s time for me to keep you from falling apart; forever, baby,” he says, going in for another kiss. Just as any other time, he managed to take your breath away, literally and figuratively. He was more than you ever expected from a hunter of the supernatural, but he was the kind of guy, who only showed this side of him, to you. And you treasured that. He wasn’t like this with anyone else and that was an honor for you. You laid with him, under the covers thrown across the bed, and you looked at him. His eyes were bright; they always seemed to be when they took in you. Small, lightly colored freckles, sprinkled across his cheeks and by his eyes, adding more personality to him. His eyes were starting to crinkle more prominent now, with his age only increasing, and you would tease him about seeing grey in his hair. Yes, Dean Winchester was starting to show the signs of all his battles on his beautiful face, but you loved that about him. He was perfectly imperfect and he was yours. And one day, when he isn’t here anymore, you will remember this look on his face, the look of love, love for you, and the things he said to you, and he would always be etched in your memories, for eternity.

Tag List: @akshi8278 @deansmyapplepie @thinkinghardhardlythinking @fandom-princess-forevermore @tloveswriting @forever-trapped-in-my-dreams @thwiso @marvelfansworld @to-my-beloved-fandoms-2 @grace15ella @angeredcrow

#dean winchester #dean girls #dean girl #dean fluff #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #Jensen Ackles #fanfiction #supernatural

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letsperaltiago · 4 years

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instead of calling me out you should be pulling me in [jake/amy]

the oneshot no one asked for about jake and amy’s first fight as a couple and... pineapple on pizza (read on aO3)

シ

It was silly.

Their first fight… As a couple that is. It really truly was and deep down they both obviously, considering the fact that they were both some of NYPD’s best detectives, knew. There was no telling exactly how things had escalated so fast but the flip had threatened to switch the second Amy showed up at Jake’s place after a long day at work. Whereas he on the other hand had spent his day off in the comfort of his home. They were still figuring things out: each other, their new status as lovers as Jake would teasingly call them. Although barely a month into this, yes new but nonetheless good, relationship was already subjected to a somewhat steady routine which amongst other things included the other dropping by after work if the circumstances didn’t allow them to work the same shifts.

Today had been the case on Amy’s part: her working and Jake not. However yesterday they’d both left the precinct rather late, unquestionably resulting in them picking up something to eat from whatever take-out place was the closest before eating it together on Jake’s couch whilst some random show could act as background noice playing in the background. As a result of being both too tired to actually feel real hunger, and the luring thought of being wrapped up in each other in the comfort of a warm bed, the remaining pizza was put away for the night. It’d make up for it’s lack of achievement as dinner the following day - or so Amy thought.

“Hey,” she’d called out to let her presence be known while taking off her boots and coat, shortly struggling to although managing to neatly place it in the entré amongst Jake’s iconically and always cluttered shoes. Although Amy did consider the recent evolution of their relationship a pledge to what first and foremost had been a devoted friendship, something serious as well as meant to last, there was still a part of her that was hesitant about springing her borderline obsessive urge to arrange everything around her upon him. It was still his home after all. Even if them being a couple didn’t cause any drastic changes (besides the touching, kissing and damn, the sex? Amazing) Amy saw no need in risking it getting that domestic this early on. Yes, they were still and always would be best friends which meant honesty came first, but there was no shame in keeping certain things like the passionate house-wife in her to herself for a bit longer. She’d allow herself to let out the occasional sigh or teasing comment about his disorderly life-style but always in a way that’d earn her an affectionate response in the form of flirty teasing or a kiss to shut her up. From her spot by the front door she heard the sound of his footsteps bounce off the walls as he made his way from what appeared to be the living room to her. The butterflies in her belly were revived by the simple sound reminding Amy of just how good things were. Oh, how she’d wasted time on previous relationship.

“Hey, babe,” he instantly smiled as soon as his eyes landed on her still not believing that he was actually allowed to greet her in whatever sickly cute way he felt like. Today he felt like wrapping his arm around her from behind which happened to be perfectly welcomed by Amy straightening back up from being bend over to rearrange his shoes and into his arms. “How was work?” he mumbled into her rosy cheek. Amy’s body immediately, just like his did with with her’s, identified his body’s characteristics and allowed itself to lean back into his firm chest like it was coming home to a sense of assurance and the ability to let down its guards.

“It was okay,” she mumbled slightly distracted by his lips continuously tasting her skin moving from her cheek to that special spot behind her ear. While he managed to let out a half-hearted mumble genuinely caring about her day, he failed to bridle his need to be reminded of just how good she tasted and how lucky he was to have her. There was no hiding that they were very much still in the early, overly-affectionate stage of their new relationship where nothing seemed to be too much. The urge to have their hands and lips all over each other at all times was still very much present and today was no exception. He hadn’t seen her all day so there was no way he’d let her slip away to change out of her work-clothes without a proper welcome.

“Someone sounds like they care, huh?” Amy briefly opened her eyes which’d slipped shut in pleasure a few seconds ago. Feeling his lips dance further across its surface there was no ignoring the fact that he was kissing his was back to the front of her cheek making out a brief “I do,” before using his hands on her waist to flip her around to look at him. The contact between his lips and her cheek was lost in the process although now she was met by dazed eyes instead, a happy smile and another shot of the feeling of coming home. There was no way she couldn’t reciprocate the happiness showing with every feature of his face.

“Questioning my intentions? You really know how to make a man want to woo you, huh?” He quirked an eyebrow as to counter her sarcasm. As he spoke she could feel his thumbs come to a newfound drowse affectionately stroking her hipbones.

“I don’t need you to want to woo me anymore,” she smirked. “I already have you. That rough part is over, Peralta.”

“Phew,” he puffed excessively staying true to his teasing nature by accompanying said puff with a smug expression. “How lucky am I?”

“Very lucky. I’m a treat,” she slid her hands from where they had been holding on his biceps onto his chest also better known as one of his many body parts that she was a complete sucker for.

“Oh, I wasn’t referring to that part, because you and I both know that I know you are. It was more of a ‘Phew, good thing I don’t have to suffer the pining anymore’.”

Of course their relationship had already endured quite the growth during their first month of being a twosome although that didn’t actually change the essence of their relationship that much.

They were still and always would be Jake and Amy; Peralta and Santiago, meaning comments of this bantering nature would as per self-evident earn Jake a playful punch to the shoulder. Right then and there being no exception.

“Ouch.”

“Well, if you don’t think of me as a treat then I might as well just put my energy elsewhere.”

In that moment Jake had no say in anything whatsoever meaning that before he had the chance to pick up on the fact that she’d slipped out of his arms Amy was wandering off to his kitchen. The sway of her hips; her cascading, finally free of work hair; altogether the way she carried herself and witnessing it live? Jake was without a doubt very aware of just how blessed he felt by her divine presence in his life. Hopefully it wouldn’t be just for some time, he couldn’t help but allow himself to think even though forever was a word with too much power this early on.

Whatever celestial world Jake’s thoughts had travelled to admiring her was abruptly disintegrated upon hearing the sound of Amy’s notably miffed voice penetrate his brief mental absence.

“Jake, did you eat the remaining pizza?”

“No,” he quickly followed her path and joined her in the kitchen. “There’s at least half a pizza left.”

“Okay, let me rephrase,” she turned to him right hand still gripping onto the fridge’s cool handle. Contrary to their teasing banter from few moments ago Amy now looked genuinely annoyed.

“Jake, did you eat what was left of my pizza?”

It really took a whole lot and was borderline impossible, especially when it came to Amy, to piss him off but the marginally combative way of repeating his name managed to trigger an irked feeling within Jake. “What do you mean your pizza? We clearly got two pizzas to share.”

“No,” prompted her closing the fridge allowing her to place both hands on her hips which now suddenly represented confrontation rather than the usual desire. “I clearly remember you asking ‘Can we get a pineapple pizza?’ and I clearly remember replying ‘Sure, I’m not a huge fan but you can go ahead get one.’… Also, if you hadn’t been too busy talking about that same old murder case you’ve been obsessing about for the past week, you would’ve noticed that I didn’t eat any of it.”

Jake frowned, not only because of the confusing task that was remembering last night after having been so tired but also secondly out of inching frustration. How could she suddenly accuse him like this when she, last night on the couch, hadn’t uttered any explicit disapproval towards either the pineapple pizza or his (super awesome, he’d say) case? “You didn’t seem to mind last night though…”

“Because I’m a grown up who’s capable of biting my tongue and compromising,” she lectured obviously just as annoyed if not more. Not that there was ever a good one but right now was definitely not the time to have a discussion: Not only was she tired after a long day at work while he had had the entire day to do nothing, but she was also hungry and had heavily relied on the remaining pizza which was now now longer an option.

“Oh so what you’re saying is…” it was now Jake’s turn to counter the hands on her hips by bitterly crossing his arms in front of his chest. “…that listening to me talk takes,” he briefly uncrossed them to allow him to execute emphasising air quotes, “compromising?”

Not 2 seconds went by before the crossed arms promptly made their return, earning him an exhaled answer.

“Stop twisting my words, would you?”

“There’s been no twisting, Amy. It’s literally what you just said.” Her name venomously oozed off of his tongue.

“Well it’s not what I intended to imply. All I’m saying is that you have a questionable taste in pizza and I would’ve really appreciated if you could’ve been considerate enough to leave me a few slices of the one pizza I actually liked since you obviously like them both.”

Amy’s eyes slipped away from his figure to follow his action, narrowing in on the pizza box which was simultaneously opened and placed on the kitchen counter before her as an emphasised part of his argument. “Pineapple pizza is without a doubt one of the most common pizzas,” he once again unfolded his arms, this time to hastily open the fridge and pull out the cold pizza box with the remaining slices.

“It might be but it’s also one of the most controversial ones.”

“Well maybe it’s your taste in food that’s controversial here then,” Jake’s arms were by then back to looking defensive, crossed, before his chest.

A silence fell over the kitchen while the pizza box remained wide agape and the 5 remaining slices untouched. Just like the pizza box Amy’s mouth was now also agape, mostly in shock by his patronising comment and horribly irritating attitude towards the problem which was enormously stupid but by then more of a question of principle for them both.

“I’m-“ she snapped, almost as for a breath of air or simply something better to do than having a fit over Jake Peralta and pineapple pizza. “I’m too old for this,” she snarled and pushed past him before she could even consider the action properly; the words had escaped her mouth and she was now definitely sticking to the stance she’d so suddenly taken. “I’m going home.” She couldn’t let him see her hesitate.

Whether it was out of stubbornness or the shock of how fast it all had escalated, Jake didn’t budge, keeping his back turned to where she was back by the front door getting ready to leave. Only a few seconds into pulling himself together and her putting on her coat he made a turn to look at her. She wasn’t looking back.

“Are you really going to storm out of here because of pizza?” his question wasn’t degrading per se although it wasn’t exactly a peace offering either.

“Amongst other things… yes,” she finished zipping up her coat allowing her to throw him a bitter glance.

“Amy, come on-“ he took a quick decision and a redeeming step towards her but it was too late. His front door was open and shut before he could stop her from walking out. All that was left of her in the apartment was the sound of the footsteps that would take her down the apartment building’s stair to her car.

Today was definitely not a good day for new love birds detectives Santiago and Peralta.

Back home in her own apartment Amy managed to put aside the taste of her anger which she quickly recognised as petty. Or almost: the petty taste reappeared the moment she picked up her phone and ordered herself an even more petty pizza - without pineapple. There was no telling whether it was out of bitterness or actual hunger but there was no doubt in Amy’s mind, from the second she sat, brewing with anger, in her car on the way home: she was having pizza for dinner. Whether it was stupid leftovers at Jake’s place or a freshly ordered one at home by herself.

She didn’t even have to think ‘deep down inside’ because it was right there at the very surface once she took the first bight of the newly delivered pizza: this fight was absolutely ridiculous and she was probably more mad about their attitudes than the problem itself.

One part of her longed to reach for her phone and call him to apologise although the other just needed to sit and feel nettled by Jake Peralta’s childishness. Even if she was mature enough to acknowledge her own partaking in the little mess they’d created and the very probable fact that she’d probably call him later to apologise for her part, she just needed to be alone for a bit. Jake was incredible and it was scary. It was still so early on in their relationship but he was probably already one of the best things to happen to her. That (obviously) didn’t mean they weren’t still the same people who could evoke the worst in each other at all times. It was a part of their dynamic, both as partners, friends and as a couple, which was fine as long at it didn’t get the best of them them like it had this time.

A million thoughts, mostly heartwarming and reaffirming ones at this point, ran through her mind although it wasn’t allowed to last for long: someone was knocking on her door and Amy had a very accurate idea about who it was - either that or maybe she was just silently hoping. It took her no time to put down the pizza and make her way to the front door.

A chuckle immediately danced off her lips. Before her stood a very sorry-looking Jake holding a wide open pizza box with ‘Sorry :(‘ scribbled in big letters across the inside its lid. Under it the same pizza from earlier presented itself but this time with all the pineapple removed and neatly placed by itself in a corner away from the pizza.

“You’re an idiot, Jake Peralta.” She couldn’t stop smiling.

He returned her happy reaction with one of his own, throwing in a nod to acknowledge her point.

“But so am I,” she added. “I’m sorry for freaking about nothing. I should’n’t’ve complained when I hadn’t even bothered to tell you I wanted to have the leftovers for dinner and had a strong pizza-preference.”

“It’s okay. I should’ve considered what your preference clearly was, especially when I knew you’d come home late and would need something to eat for dinner… And I should’n’t’ve called your taste in food controversial.”

“Oh,” Amy reacted to this reminder of what he’d said earlier once more realising how dumb of a fight it really had been. Another chuckled followed up. “I mean my taste is controversial, but mostly just because I’m allergic to 50% of all foods. That’s on me.”

They shared a laugh both feeling the calm finally settle over them and allow their previous argument and annoyance to be put aside.

“Can we agree on one thing?” Amy calmly grabbed the pizza box from his hands, closing it before carefully letting it to drop to the floor as to free her hands.

“Just one thing?” He challenged teasingly still standing on the opposite side of the threshold.

“At least this one thing,” the smirk on her lips easily, the one that appeared almost automatically whenever she had to counter his quirky remarks, transferred to the sound of her voice. Her hands grabbed onto his still open leather jacket and pulled him into what was now finally once more their safe haven.

“Okay… what is it then?” he let out as she dragged out her pull on his jacket till the tip of his nose was promptly placed, simply being that bit taller than her, in front of the bridge of hers. Both craved to have their bodies touch again, now for the first time since her doomed arrival at his place hours ago.

“You and I…” she trailed off, both her brain and focus short-circuiting the instant she realised just how profound the infatuated expression on his face was. Within the very limited time they’d been together, as an actual couple that is, Amy had sooner than expected come to terms with the fact that Jake made her feel a wider range of emotions than any past love interest had ever been able to incite. Right then and there was a prime example: she wanted nothing else but grab his face to make sure she wouldn’t have to go on for much longer without the taste and feel of his lips. Although she had a point to finish. “… You and I need to control our passion for take-out food.”

Just to keep him wrapped around her little finger with the help of a touch, Amy slid her hand on his chest up to where his hair by the nape of his neck curled just a bit more than the rest. Next she let the tip of her nose brush against his. “That or we simply need to channel our anger into something more… enjoyable.” Her lips broke under the weight of the tension immediately breaking into a toothy grin.

“Agreed,” Jake bluntly kicked the door behind him closed without looking away from where his hands, now suddenly out of control, reached to cup her face in his hands and pull her in for the contact he longed for. The kiss was not anything new. Within their first month together there’d been a lot of kissing (amongst other things). Yet this on, this one kiss with clacking teeth whilst holding onto each other like they’d spent months apart, was enough to advocate the fact that where they were was indeed where they were both meant to be. If Jake was king of the world he would make sure Amy would forever play with his hair whilst smiling into his lips before letting out a small gasp of surprise when he’d spin her around in order to capture her body against the door. Similar to what was happening at that very moment. All in all sJake Peralta was never really a 100% sure about anything although the sound of Amy Santiago’s back hitting the hard wooden surface would be enough to make sure he would always be a sucker for her and everything she did or stood for - even her hatred towards pineapple pizza.

This he was sure of.

#getting into writing random oneshots just to practice writing more frequently #jake x amy #peraltiago #jake and amy #peraltiago fic #peraltiago fanfic #b99 #brooklyn nine-nine #b99 fic #andy samberg #melissa fumero #fluff #fanfic #fanfiction #oneshot #peraltiago oneshot

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a-marlene-s · 5 years

Text

La Red: Part 13

If anyone is interested or want to support my writing feel to drop by. https://ko-fi.com/a_marlene_s

Plagg knew what he is doing is dangerous. Not only for himself but also for the holder of the Cat Miraculous. Using cataclysm in this weakened state makes it dangerous for everyone around. It becomes more chaotic and unpredictable. The weaker the user has become, the harder it is for them to control it and with Plagg purposely making harder for the kid to use it, that only makes it just as worse.

Nothing mattered anymore. He already failed this kitten.

-.-

Fu watched as Marinette left his shop with a deep frown etched onto his face. He and Marinette had a long talk about Chat Noir’s change behavior and health. Even though Marinette wanted to talk to him about Chat’s behavior, his health came first. It was becoming increasingly obvious that something is wrong and Chat Noir is doing his best to ignore it.

“Do you believe Plagg is giving up on Adrien?” Wyazz asked as he flew over to Fu.

“No… He already has given up on him, I’m afraid.” Fu couldn’t help how tired he felt at that instant. He should have seen it coming from several miles away. With how Chat Noir kept putting his own emotions ahead of everyone. The insistence need to get Ladybug’s love and approval have blinded him massively. This would not be the first time a Chat Noir has done this, and there were so few times they were able to get out of the gutter before things become irreparable.

“That was what I was afraid of that could be happening…” Wyazz sighed, he flew over and sat on Fu’s shoulder. He looked just as tired as his holder. “What are we going to do?”

“Ladybug is still worried about him, but is at her wits ends with his behavior.” Wu tiredly said, he made his way back into the shop to look through his things. He has been packing everything to move to a new location and right now, he needed to finish it soon. “I wanted to believe so much in Adrien Agreste that I allowed it to cloud my mind when it has become increasingly clear his behavior is doing more bad than good.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I need to speak to him… I will then decide if he’s too far gone or if there’s a chance of redemption.”

“If there’s no chance of redemption?”

“…I will follow Ladybug’s plan accordingly.”

-.-

Felix Lachance knew the day he would have to face Adrien Agreste once more after the last time they had faced each other. Which would now make it around… two years? Give or take. Either way, Felix never wants to deal with Agreste anytime soon. That idiot still hasn’t learned a single thing from the last time he tried to protect a liar.

Let’s just say, that time around, Felix decided his highroad included ruining someone’s reputation forever. The memory alone brings him warmth even on the coldest of nights. It was just too bad that Adrien has a successful and rich father to protect his dreadful public image. Typical really. Using daddy’s money to get him out of trouble and to continue on with his delusions of reality.

“Excuse me?”

Felix paused mid-stride, he turned around to see an old man carrying a map and looking completely lost. He turned to fully face the older gentlemen, giving him his complete attention. “Sir?”

“I’m sorry to ask… you wouldn’t happen to know where…” The old man asked, laughing awkwardly while handing Felix his map. “I moved to a different shop, but I had gotten lost getting there. If you could be so kind…?”

Felix took the map and made a note of their current location to see what is the best direction to the old man’s new shop. He made sure that he did not head into heavy traffic or any place that would give him trouble. “Take this route.”

Felix held the map to the old man and told him the general directions to his designated location. “You’re not that far from there. Perhaps a fifteen-minute walk?”

“Oh? That’s not far!” The old man chuckled, seeing that he didn’t get lost after all. “Thank you! Perhaps I will get there soon before the movers do. Thank you, young man.”

Felix gave him a courteous nod while handing him back the map. “Get there safely.”

“Thank you.”

Felix watched as the old man crossed a street before disappearing after taking a left. He swore had seen the same old before, but cannon put a finger on it. Oh well, not his problem anymore. Right now, he needs to go to the library to work on a school project. Yes… school, what a way to keep in distracted from him.

“Felix? It’s been a while, huh?”

‘If there is a god up there…shoot me.’ Felix turned around to see Adrien now standing awkwardly in front of him. Giving him a glance over, Felix couldn’t hide his snort at the other blonde’s appearance. Even if Adrien did not show it, he could tell that something is off about him. It reminded him as the last time the idiot tried to… well, let’s not dwell on the past. “Agreste… How’s life? Considering your feeble mind insists on repeating history.”

For his own part, Adrien tried to smile but it looked strained. It was clear that Felix hit a nerve within him. Even so, he did his best to make the best of the situation. “How have you been? I heard you stopped modeling?”

“I now mainly act nowadays.” There’s no point in hiding it and instead of modeling, Felix has grown to enjoy acting. Even more so considering his girlfriend is also part of the industry. Felix gave Adrien a raised eyebrow which caused the other blonde to stammer over his words. “You still haven’t answered my question, Agreste.”

“I don’t know what you mean by that.” Adrien responded, he tightly gripped on the strap of his book bag.

“I’m Kagami’s new fencing partner… and a close friend of hers.” Felix deadpanned, taking inner joy when he saw Adrien’s expression immediately drop at the mention of Kagami before paling massively. He took inner joy seeing this side of Adrien. “I’m surprised you are defending another liar? Didn’t you learn your listen previously?”

“Felix, could we not?” Adrien physically pleaded with him. He kept looking around, expecting something or something to just appear out of nowhere. “Lila is different.”

“Of course she is different! She is dragging you with her this time, congratulations.” Felix let out a quick laugh that left him with a sharp smirk that taunted Adrien to no end. “Your former friends, Marinette and Nino, have informed Kagami and myself what has been occurring in that school of yours… and I have to say, I am extremely disappointed in you Adrien.”

“Marinette and Nino are my friends.” Adrien defended but deep within himself, he couldn’t help that small voice that continually agreed with Felix’s words. Squashing that voice in the back of his mind when something clicked. “You talked to them?”

“That’s beside the point.” Felix said impassively. “What you need to worry about is what is going to happen to that Rossi girl you are so intent in protecting. She is a manipulative liar that is going what she could to destroy everyone around her, and you are protecting her.”

“She could change. Lila just needs time to understand that she doesn’t need to lie to make friends. All she needs is a friend…” Adrien prattled on with his excuse that Lila just needed a friend and so on. Felix wasn’t really having it as he did his best to drown out Adrien’s poor attempt of an excuse to pardon Lila Rossi’s behavior. Even more so when Adrien attempted to manipulate him into believing his words. The problem with that is that Felix already learned his lesson from the last time, that he should allow Adrien to sway him that easily anymore.

“How unbelievably ignorant and self-righteous you are! You forced your friend to take the high road. Which said friend has been relentlessly bullied due to all the lies which you are doing your best to cover it up.” Felix finally exploded, eyes narrowed and his entire posture tense with controlled rage. He took a step back, taking in a deep breath while fixing his tie. “Not everyone shares your form of reality.”

-.-

Chat Noir does not know what is wrong with him, it has been becoming increasingly difficult to maintain his transformation. Even more so after using his special attack. Falling to his knees on a random rooftop in an attempt to catch his breath, Chat clutched his chest as exhaustion overwhelmed him once more.

The last beep from his ring rung out and he had become Adrien Agreste once more. He looked up to see Plagg had plopped himself in front of him and he looked just as miserable as himself. “Plagg? Are you okay?”

Plagg slowly turned to give Adrien a look of complete disinterest before looking away again. “Yeah, just tired.”

Adrien reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of camembert out for Plagg. “Here, we have to meet up with Ladybug soon. She says it’s important.”

Plagg turned to look at the cheese and wondered if he should eat it. He doesn’t want to eat it, but if Ladybug needs to talk to him… perhaps this is his chance. “Alright kid. Give me the cheese! Let’s go see what she wants.”

-.-

“Ugh… when will he get here?”

“He should be here already!”

“Damn, Cat!”

Carapace tried his best to ignore her. He really did, but Bumblebee has been making it rather hard. Bumblebee, formerly known as Queen Bee, paced around the Eiffel tower waiting for Ladybug to talk to Chat Noir. They had been asked to stick around mainly to take care of any pesky akuma’s decide to interrupt Ladybug and Chat Noir’s important conversation.

Looking over at Bumblebee, Carapace took in her new hero’s costume. Bumblebee’s hair is pulled back with a honeycomb bun pin, her blonde hair has black streaks that is nearly reminiscent of a bee. She has a beige fur collar that gives it an appearance of a mane, including having matching fur on her forearms and half of her lower legs. She looks great. For Chloe.

“He’ll get here when he gets here.” Carapace said lightheartedly, which only earned him a glare. “It’s either being here or patrol.”

“Ugh…” Bumblebee rolled her eyes, she turned her attention towards the city. “He better get her soon.”

“He’s here.” Carapace deadpanned when he saw Chat Noir arriving at the tower and landed near Ladybug. From where he stood, he could tell the cat themed hero is worse for wear. No wonder Ladybug wanted to talk to him, Chat looks like a dead man walking. “Do you still want to go on pa-”

“Shhh~ I’m trying to listen.” Bumblebee hushed him and did her best to listen to the conversation down below. Too bad that it was a windy day and it just made things harder to hear. Her brows furrowed as she tried her best to figure what is being said, but it was been becoming increasingly clear that Ladybug is worried about Chat’s health. Can’t blame her for asking that, Chat has turned into a liability. Which was the reason she and Carapace became full time Miraculous Holders, along with Ryuko and Viperion who became part-time holders. “Hm…”

“Is he really flirting with her?” Carapace huffed out, annoyed with Chat’s ever need to flirt with Ladybug.

“Don’t remind me. It’s either him acting like a massive baby or flirting with her none stop.” Bumblebee growled out. “She wants to talk about his health and he’s doing his best to convince her to go on a… oh?”

“Did… Did he just stick up for Lila?”

“He did and Ladybug isn’t having it.”

“…Should we intervene?” Carapace asked, wincing at Chat Noir’s poor attempt to convince Ladybug to go on a date with him.

“No, he’s leaving.” Bumblebee glared at Chat at his sudden departure. “His time get shorter and shorter. At this rate, we might have to use plan C.”

“Nah, better off we use plan F. Lila was brought up and Ladybug will probably want to clear things up on that end before making her final decision.” Carapace sighed, not really knowing what their future will look like at this point in time. “Come on, Ladybug looks like she’s about to blow a gasket.”

-.-

‘Of course he refuses to acknowledge anything is wrong.’ Ladybug paced around her spot, and glaring at the direction Chat Noir had run off to. ‘He refuses to acknowledge anything is wrong with his flirting, decline in health and… how dare he defend Lila! How dare he force me not to intervene!’

“Ladybug, how did it go?” Bumblebee asked as she and Carapace ran up to her.

“I know you two eavesdropped.” Ladybug said, obviously annoyed.

“Hey, you could have needed our help dealing with him.” Bumblebee replied with an uncaring shrug.

“In all seriousness, Ladybug. How did it go?” Carapace asked, taking a tentative step toward Ladybug.

“To sum it up… Chat Noir is refusing to acknowledge he’s doing anything wrong. Claiming that if I saw things in his perspective, I would see he is right. Especially with his romantic feelings towards me and… his need to defend Lila.” Ladybug’s nose scrunched up in mild disgust. “He wanted me to take the high road when it came to Lila’s lies. Can you guys believe it?”

Carapace and Bumblebee glanced at each other, knowing fully well that there is no return for Chat.

“I need to talk to the guardian…” Ladybug said to herself, as she took out her yo-yo. “Could you two patrol? I need to talk to someone…”

“Keep in contact?”

“Keep in contact.”

#La Red #Part 13 #Miraculous Ladybug #ML #ML Salt #Salt #Fanfic #au #Alya Salt #Lila Salt #Adrien Salt

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derryhawkins · 5 years

Text

what did you say?

summary: there are five times richie says those three little words to the love of his life, but it takes six for eddie to actually hear him and say it back. warnings: none?? i think word count: 7.4k a/n: this is set within canon so get ready for a tad bit of pain & angst. i’d put a spoiler warning for it ch2 but i haven’t seen it yet & idk how the final battle actually goes down so,, yeah. also this is the longest thing i’ve written under nine hours & sorry for any typos! x

It wasn’t necessarily out of the blue for anyone in the Losers Club to say three special words to one another. They were a group of best friends who fought a demonic entity together – they almost died. After the oath, and once things settled back normal other than a few nightmares they had once in a while, the group of seven told each other ‘I love you’ more often than not, probably everyday if one were to count how often.

And of course Richie said it to Eddie – if anything, he said it to the smaller boy the most. It had started out as the Tozier boy joking around long before they fought a clown in the sewers, but, eventually as time went on, that changed. Richie wanted to say he didn’t know when it changed, because he knew the exact moment it did: with Bill, Beverly, Eddie and himself in that godforsaken house, the clown coming towards them, Eddie’s arm broken, everyone yelling but Richie shouting the loudest to get Eddie to look at him. Because – fuck. Fuck, Richie couldn’t lose Eds. His Eds. A boy he’s had a crush on for what seems like forever now. It had been in that terrifying moment that Richie realized with an equally terrifying realization that he loved Eddie fucking Kaspbrak. And, with time, he started saying those words to him less after everything ended. Not drastically so – he didn’t want to make it obvious.

But those three little words, the meaning of them more like, had shifted into something more, and saying them not in that way felt wrong.

It was some day random Saturday afternoon. The seven of them were lounging at the quarry, soaking up the warm sun the best they could with autumn just around the corner. Mike was with Bill in the water, and Beverly was nearby on a rock smoking a cigarette, Ben not too far away as he tried to get a radio to work so they weren’t in complete silence. Stan attempted to help, but between getting frustrated that they couldn’t get it to work and Bev’s cig smoke, he soon ventured into the water with Bill and Mike. Richie and Eddie were sitting on a towel together, both in swim trunks and the heat of the sun was making their shoulders turn the slightest bit pink, but as they ate some snacks Stan and Bev brought along, neither particularly cared just yet.

“Hey!” Richie exclaimed suddenly and turned to Eddie. “Lets stuff our faces and say something and see if the other can guess what we’re saying!”

Eddie made a face of pure disgust. “Ew, why would- that- how did you come up with that?! That sounds so fucking disgusting, Rich, oh my god, I don’t wanna see half eaten food in your germy mouth!”

“How can it be germy if your mom kisses it?”

“Richie, I swear!”

Richie busted out laughing. “C’mon, Eds!” He pleaded and stuck out his bottom lip, leaning towards the boy. “Please?”

“Get your face away from me!” Eddie grunted and put his hand on the side of Richie’s face, pushing him away, and Richie grinned some more, hoping the pink on his cheeks would come off as a sunburn or something. “Your stupid puppy eyes don’t work on me, fucker, not anymore!”

“You’re so lame.”

“I’m lame?!”

They went back and forth as they ate a couple more snacks. Occasionally, Stan shouted at them to shut up, and Bev once in a while egged Richie on, earning a death glare from Eddie as Richie, Ben, and Beverly laughed. Finally, Ben got the radio to work and turned it up load enough for everyone to hear. It wasn’t long after that when Mike came over and forcibly dragged the two outs away from the snacks, claiming they were going to eat all of it they didn’t leave right then.

At some point, they all got in the water. For a while they played together – chicken, splash attacks, fake drowning, sharks – but eventually they all drifted to do their own thing. Mike and Bill were racing one another and Ben was timing it. Beverly was seeing how far she could swim below the surface and for how long she could do it, but Stan stayed close by her in case something went wrong, and Eddie was floating on his back, basking in the sun some more. Richie was just swimming around randomly, annoying his friends when he felt like it, and talking everyone’s ears off even if they weren’t listening, but in all honesty he was mostly just speaking to Eddie.

Richie stopped swimming and splashing around for a second, eyes landing on Eddie. It was a blurry sight – he left his glasses in the grass so he wouldn’t lose them in the water – but it was sharp enough for him to see who it was. He squinted to make the sight better, wiping water from his eyes, and a fond smile formed on his lips. He sunk down to hide it with the water in case any of the losers were watching. The sounds of Mike and Bill shouting as they raced faded out, same with Ben’s enthusiastic yells as he cheered both boys on. Stan’s laugh mixed with Beverly’s became background noise. The birds chirping simply became nonexistent. Eddie was just floating. He looked decently relaxed, a content smile on his features. Brunet hair floating in the water and stuck to his forehead, and from what Richie could see, the other boy’s eyes were closed.

A garble of words and bubbles came up as Richie spoke. It took Eddie out of his relaxed state and he looked at Richie with quizzical eyes. “What the fuck was that, Trashmouth?”

Squinty eyes turned wide. He pushed himself above water. “Um- I like blue! Like the sky, and water, and the bra your mom wears when we-.”

“Beep beep, Richie!” A chorus of six voices sounded, paired with Eddie splashing Richie.

The boy laughed. He backed away once Eddie splashed him, thinking instead of voicing the words he had said underwater that Eddie thankfully didn’t understand.

I love you.

ii.

“If I knew you were going to be even more annoying, I would’ve fucking threw that joint in the trash – or better, not have come along at all! But no you and Bev just had to get high for the first time and bring me along in case any serious and bad shit happened- will you stop laying on me?! You’re not a pet, Richie!” Eddie went on, mouth moving a mile per second it seemed like, complaint after complaint escaping him.

He had been studying for end of semester finals like his other two friends should be doing, but the redhead and the trashmouth wanted to try getting high for the first time at fifteen. Ben was sick with the flu, and was only just now on the road to recovery, so he had been out of the question when the two wanted a friend to supervise them in case it somehow all went to shit. Bill claimed he always studied better alone, and Mike, as much as he wanted to join the two on their high journey, declined because he needed to help his granddad with something. Stanley at first had agreed but backed out last minute when he realized he hadn’t done a single thing for an important essay due in three days. So, it had been down to Eddie, who wanted to say no it all, but figured it would get him away from his mom for some time.

The boy now wished he had walked away when he had the chance.

While Bev was munching away on some chips as she looked at a fashion magazine, occasionally speaking so deep and meaningful that even Eddie had to remind himself he was perfectly sober. Hopefully. Could you get high from second hand weed smoke? He wondered if it were possible, considering they were confined in Richie’s bedroom, the boy’s parents out of town for work. But hopefully that wasn’t the case.

Once the weed had started kicking in for Richie, it was if a switch had been flipped. He wasn’t talking as much as he usually was. He hadn’t completely shut up, but he had gotten quieter the more he got high. And clingier, too. At first he had cuddled Beverly and told her he loved her. She didn’t mind until she had to run off to pee, and that was when Richie moved onto Eddie, causing the boy’s endless complaints because he was unable to study, let alone move. He was on Richie’s bed, study notes, papers, and books all around him until Richie not so neatly pushed some away and crawled into Eddie’s lap. Usually, Eddie could care less. He loved cuddles. But he needed to pass this one class in particular and Richie’s high-clinginess was preventing that.

“I should’ve gone with Stan,” Eddie said. “Fucking Stan, at least he would be letting me study!”

“Calm your tits, Eddie, the science exam still isn’t until next Friday,” Bev told, waving a hand dismissively as she flipped a page of the magazine.

“You promised I’d be able to study!”

“I did, yeah.”

“Meanwhile, I didn’t,” Richie said, sounding proud of himself.

Eddie smacked him on the back of the head, muttering a few cuss words, and leaned back on his hands, Richie almost full on koala-ing him. Richie’s arms were wrapped around his torso and his head was nestled in the crook of Eddie’s neck, both legs on one side of Eddie in a bit of an awkward angle. Richie started talking again about one thing or another, but Eddie just tuned him out and let his head fall back, eyes staring at the ceiling. He gave up on complaining. It wasn’t getting anywhere and he didn’t want to annoy Bev too much with how unhappy he is about the situation.

“---ove spaghetti.”

Eddie blinked and looked at Richie. Well, Richie’s hair. “Spaghetti?” He repeated, confused.

Richie nodded. “Yeah, I love Spaghetti.”

The shorter boy snorted and half-heartedly rolled his eyes. “I know you like spaghetti, Richie, you brought it as your lunch for a solid week last month,” he said. “But I’m not making you any, if that’s what you’re getting at. It’s ten thirty at night.” Eddie added the last bit after glancing at the digital clock by Richie’s bed, and he heard Bev make a sound at the back of her throat, agreeing with Eddie.

“No. That’s not-,” he stopped himself and let out a sigh. Eddie tensed and hunched his shoulders, the breath of air causing chill bumps to form all over his body. “My Spaghetti, dumbass. My Eddie Spaghetti. Eds Spagheds. Spaghetti Man. I love you.”

Eddie blinked. He looked to the ceiling, then to Beverly who had sat up from her position in Richie’s bean bag. Her blue eyes were stuck on the two. Then finally, Eddie looked down at Richie again. He let out a little laugh. “Dude, you’re such a sap when high!” Eddie exclaimed in amusement. “First Bev, now me, who’s next? Stan? You gonna call him, or what?” He giggled some more at the thought of Richie calling Stan up so late just to say ‘I love you’.

Richie scoffed and shifted his weight. “I dunno. No,” he mumbled. “I really do love you, Eds.”

Eddie rolled his eyes but a smile tugged on his lips, ignoring the feeling of his face becoming just the slightest bit warm. He then laid back; his arms were getting tired from holding both his weight and Richie’s, and seeing as he wasn’t going to get any studying done, he let Richie full on cuddle him. “Whatever, Tozier,” he whispered.

They ended up falling asleep like that: cuddled into one another with Eddie’s study papers strewn around them, and Bev had fallen asleep in the bean bag. When Richie woke up the following morning, he was extremely yet pleasantly surprised to find Eddie fast asleep on his chest, their legs tangled together. Richie slipped his glasses on after grabbing them from their spot beside his head, and wrapped his arms tighter around Eddie, soaking in the blissful moment the best he could.

iii.

Richie Tozier believed he truly fucked up. And it wasn’t the type of fuck up that he could easily fix with a joke or a Voice, or anything of the sort. In a high daze he had confessed to Eddie Kaspbrak that he loved him, and it wasn’t masked as a joke. He didn’t mean to - well, he did but he didn’t - and he has learned he has even less of a filter when high, and that’s saying something considering he barely has one when sober. After that blissful morning, the dawning realization of it all hit him full force later that afternoon when he was home alone trying to get the smell of weed out of his room.

Fifteen year old Richie Tozier had called Beverly, insisted she come back over, and he spilled the beans the moment she stepped into his house with a puzzled look. It had taken over two hours for Bev to calm the boy down. She insisted Eddie most likely brushed it off as nothing more than Richie being Richie, and insisted that even she took it that way considering he had continuously told her, “I love you,” as they cuddled minutes before then. It calmed him down, somewhat. But that paranoia of Eddie knowing when Richie doesn’t want him to know just yet was still there. Even after exams were over and they were spending Christmas break together, it was still there.

So, he did what any logical fifteen year old would do at the time.

He just stopped saying those words. To Eddie. No one else. If anything, he probably amplified the mention of those three little words to his best friends, excluding the literal love of his life. Other than those times Richie would say, “I love you guys,” he never said them to Eddie specifically. And it stayed that way for a while. A year and a half, specifically.

During that time, Mike had actually questioned him, a bit taken back by the amount of times the Tozier boy had shouted those words at him within a week. Richie had easily explained that he just had a lot of love in his heart at the time. And he said the same thing when Stan confronted him. When Ben asked, Richie had simply asked in reply, “Can I not tell my best friends I love them?” Bill gave him odd looks once in a while but never said anything, chalking it up to be Richie just being his odd self. And Beverly never asked or confronted him because she knew why.

At some point, he made a game: whenever he felt the urge to just blurt, “I love you,” to his best friend, he would instead just tell one of the other Losers, or stated that he loved the tree they were passing or a candle he saw in a window of a store.

“That’s a nice ice cream parlor, I love it there.”

“We know, Richie, we’ve been there a thousand times.”

“I love that cake your mom made the other day, Stan!”

“I’ll tell her you said that.”

“Love your new hair cut, Bev!”

“I got it cut a month ago?”

“Still looks good! Ain’t I right, Ben? C’mon, agree with me!”

Those days turned into months, and those months turned into a year, and then a few more months went by and then it was a year and a half since that grand idea of his came to be, and Richie truly believed everything was going well. Those words hadn’t slipped from his mouth for a good bit of time, and he was honestly proud of himself.

Until a furious Eddie barged into his room one afternoon after school.

“You lanky piece of fucking shit!”

Richie shrieked when the door flung open, and fell off of his bed into a heap on the floor with a blanket, a text book, some papers and his walkman. He scrambled to stand up, only to trip a few times over the blanket tangled at his ankles, and the wire of his walkman got tangled around his neck and arms. He struggled to get out of both, tossing them to side the harshly once he freed himself. He straightened himself posture wise but his wild and messy hair stayed the same, as did his crooked glasses. A smile formed on his blushing face as he looked at Eddie.

“Eddie, my man! What a nice surprise-.”

“I fucking hate you,” Eddie seethed as he stepped farther into the room, marching over to Richie. The smile Richie wore fell instantly. “You are such a dickhead, did you know that?”

Richie held his hands up as Eddie poked his chest. “Whoa, hey, what’s- huh?” He was thoroughly confused, to say the least. And, a little bit scared. Eddie may be shorter than most guys their age, but he packed a good punch and was the feistiest out of all the Losers. Richie used to just laugh when Eddie got mad, claiming such a short boy could never be intimating. Now, years later, Eddie was taller and more well built though he still looked awkward being a teen and all, but he had more a bit more muscle than when he was six and a better choice of fowl words as well. Richie had no choice but to admit Eddie could be intimidating.

Eddie scoffed harshly. “Oh, come on, don’t act like you don’t know what the fuck I’m getting on about!” He yelled.

“No, I don’t!” Richie yelled back. Both of his parents were home, but he didn’t care and it seemed as if Eddie didn’t either. The teen only hoped neither came up to check on all the yelling, and he was honestly surprised they didn’t with Eddie furiously stomping in.

“Jesus, Rich, I know you do! I also know you don’t wanna be my friend anymore! You hate me.”

“The fuck I do. Who fucking said that?”

“No one, but they don’t have to say anything!”

“What’s that supposed to mean!?”

“You don’t tell me you love me! You’re always saying it to the others in some way or another, and it wasn’t until I was studying with Ben and Stan when I realized. They took a break and talked about how you’re always saying ‘I love you’ to them, and then I’m sitting there feeling like completely fucking shit because you stopped saying that to me! You used to say it all the time when we were kids, and after...that summer, you said it less, but I didn’t think anything of it, but now you’ve completely stopped! You could’ve just said you don’t wanna be friends anymore with me rather than just drifting away. We don’t even fucking hang out one on one anymore!”

Oh, shit. Richie’s fucked up. His eyes widened behind his glasses and he lowered his hands. “Eds, that- that’s not...” He trailed off, unable to find any words that would make the situation better. He felt his gut churn with guilt as he noticed that Eddie was crying. The tears started to fall mid-way through his rant and he hadn’t made an effort to calm down and stop them.

Eddie sniffled and wiped the tears on his cheeks away. “Look-.”

Richie bent down and wrapped his arms tightly around Eddie’s waist, and picked him up. “I’m sorry.”

“What the fuck, Rich, get off!”

“No!” Richie squeezed his eyes shut and held onto Eddie tighter, the shorter boy doing his best to get out of Richie’s grasp. “No, Eddie, okay, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry. I’m a dumbass, I wasn’t thinking straight at all, you have every right to hate me but I could never hate you. Okay?”

Eddie stopped fighting. “...What?”

Richie continued, “I just thought you got tired of it, y’know? Annoyed and all. You never really said it back when I did say it to you, so I thought you didn’t want to hear it, so I stopped. You’re my best friend and I’m sorry for hurting your feelings, I didn’t meaning to, I just wasn’t using my brain. I do love you, please believe me.”

Silence fell over them. No one spoke for the next few minutes, and at some point Richie set Eddie back down and let go, taking a step back to give him space. He picked at his nails as he waited for Eddie to say something, avoiding eye contact.

Eddie sucked in a breath of air and let it out. “You’re a dick.”

Richie nodded. “Yeah.”

“But I don’t hate you, either. I mean, I probably should, but...” He trailed off and shrugged.

Richie looked up with a wide smile. “Really?”

“Yes, really, I don’t think I could hate you even if I tried,” Eddie admitted, a smile of his own forming.

Richie went to say something, but a knock on the door frame kept him from doing so. The two teens looked over to see Maggie Tozier standing there. The woman looked the slightest bit concerned as she stared back at them. “Everything okay in here?”

Eddie nodded, cheeks a bit pink, as Richie answered, “Yeah, just some mixed signals, Mags.”

Maggie gave her son a look.

Richie sighed. “Sorry, sorry. Mom.” He smiled, and so did she.

“Your father’s making spaghetti, by the way,” she told him. “It’ll be ready in ten minutes. Eddie, you’re free to join -- always will be.”

Eddie shook his head. “No, it’s fine-.”

“What? No, you’re staying,” Richie protested. “My Eddie Spaghetti eating spaghetti! It’s oddly poetic.”

Eddie made a face. “It’s weird.”

“So, you’re staying?”

“...Yes.”

“Yay!”

iv.

"You’re learning...Russian?” Mike asked hesitantly.

Richie nodded, holding the Russian dictionary like it was his pride and joy. “Yep! Latin’s too hard, Spanish is too basic, French is too...uh, French, and I couldn’t think of anything else, so Russian it is, Mikey! Care to join me?”

“Uh... Not this time, no.”

Richie beamed. “Perfect.”

Mike snorted out a laugh as he started to walk away. “You’re a weird one, Rich.”

“You love me, though!”

“Debatable!”

They laughed, and Richie reopened the book he had closed, going back to studying how to say ‘I love you’ in Russian. Of course, he was going to teach himself a few other things, but that was the main goal. The reason he chose Russian and none of the others was because it’s the least likely one where Eddie might too easily piece everything together. French would be the logical route to go considering that’s an elective he’s currently taking at school, but so is Eddie, so that completely rules it out. Then the others are taking Spanish. So, if he wanted everything to not come to light so suddenly, he had to go with something no one else knew, either.

“Hey, I can help you with that if you want. It’s hard.”

Richie’s stomach dropped. But he forced a smile as he looked up. Stan stood there, the sun shining behind him as if he were an angel. Right then, Richie thought he was the devil. “Stan the Man! Why aren’t you with Mike and Ben over there?” Richie asked. He pointed over to the large rocks the other two boys were on as they looked at a bird book Stan had brought along with him. For a split second, Richie glanced over to where Beverly, Bill, and Eddie were as they sat under a tree for shade, and then quickly looked back up to Stan, forcing another smile.

“Offering my help for once in your lame life,” Stan answered. “Really, it’s not that easy to learn. The Russians have a completely different alphabet than us.”

“No, thanks, I got it.”

“Richard.”

“Stanley.”

“Stop being difficult.”

“Do you even know me? I’m difficult every minute of every hour of every day of every month of every year!”

An unpleased look came over Stan’s face and before Richie knew it, Stan was forcibly hoisting the dark haired boy to his feet. “Rich and I are going for sno-cones! Give us your money if you want one!” He kept a firm grip on Richie’s elbow and turned to face him as their friends fished for money. “We’re talking. No funny business, got it?”

Richie nodded quickly. His heart was hammering in his chest from nerves, and he could feel his hands start to sweat -- and it wasn’t from the Spring heat. Stan must have noticed something, because his look softened and his grip loosened.

“It’s nothing bad, Rich,” he assured in a whisper as the other five started hurrying to them. “I promise.”

Richie could only nod again as he swallowed a lump in his throat. Then, they were grabbing money from their friends, and soon enough walking away from the barrens and to Richie’s new but beat down truck parked at the road. Stan took the money and stuffed it in one of his pockets, and then took the book from Richie as they got in the truck. His hands were shaking and he felt as if he was about to puke or pass out. Stan and him...they were close, almost as close as brothers, and if Richie had to make a list of his favorite people, the Jew would be directly under Eddie, maybe tied with Beverly.

Stan was someone Richie could have serious conversations with when he was tired of being the annoying and funny guy. For years, it’s been like this. Despite how often Stan says, “I hate you, Richie,” it wasn’t true in the slightest, and sure he got annoyed more often than not, but they were still as thick as thieves. Which was why Richie was a jittery mess. Stan didn’t have to say a word. Richie knew Stan knew; he didn’t know how, but he did, and that terrified the dark haired boy to no end. Because out of all the things that could make Stan hate Richie for real, it’s the fact he likes boys.

“Rich, pull over, you’re already going twenty over the speed limit, and I don’t want you to crash while we talk,” Stan said.

Richie nodded for a third time. “Y-Yeah. Um, g-good idea, Stan.”

Stan smirked. “Leave the stuttering to Bill.”

Richie cracked a smile but it went away as fast as it came, and then put the truck in park. He didn’t move, though. He stayed facing forward and his hands gripped the wheel tightly. “How long have you known?” Richie asked.

“That you love Eddie? I dunno... A while,” Stan admitted. “I don’t think the others know-.”

“Bev does.”

“Okay. I don’t think the boys know,” Stan corrected. “I’m just observant. Plus, we’ve grown up together, Richie. If I had to pick a specific moment, it would be sometime in sophomore year. We all went to the arcade one weekend. Eddie got absolutely pissed at one of the employees and screamed at him. We almost got kicked out! But the entire time you looked...fond. Proud, even. We almost got kicked out of your favorite place in the world but you didn’t care because it was Eddie. That’s love. You would’ve reacted differently it had been anyone else.”

Richie half-smiled. He remembered that day. “So... You don’t hate me? Find me disgusting?” Slowly, he looked to his friend.

Stan rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “I find you disgusting because you’ve worn that shirt for the third day in a row. Not because you like boys.”

Relief flooded through Richie.

Then, “How long have you loved him, anyway?”

“Since we were twelve.”

“We’re seventeen.”

“Yup.”

“That’s five years!”

“Yep.”

“Holy shit.”

Richie sucked in a deep breath and then let it out. “Yeah...” He paused. “I thought it was nothing, honestly, at first. Then we almost died, and then the feeling never went away and...here we are. I want to tell him, but not now, but I can’t hold it in much longer either, so that’s where the Russian comes in.”

Stan nodded, motioned for Richie to start driving again, and thought for a moment. “Lucky for you that’s the one phrase I do know in Russian.”

A grin formed on Richie’s lips as he drove. “Perfect.”

He didn’t learn the phrase within one day like he wanted. Stan decided to make Richie learn the entire alphabet for the Russian language first, a few basic words, and then he would teach Richie the phrase. It took a few days to do the first part, and then another couple for the next. By the time the next weekend rolled around, Richie had the entire alphabet memorized and could say hello, bye, fuck, and I love you in Russian all thanks to Stan. Richie didn’t have the guts to say it that weekend, but waited until Monday when he had to drive Eddie to school that morning.

“Hey, Eds?” Richie spoke halfway through the drive.

Half-asleep Eddie hummed. “Yeah, Rich?”

“Я люблю тебя.”

Silence. Then, “I have no idea what the fuck you just said,” Eddie paused as he yawned. “But that’s pretty cool, Rich. Ya lebyuh te-blah blah to you too.”

“You totally just butchered that.”

“Fuck off.”

The Losers Club were officially high school graduates. Mike actually graduated earlier than everyone since he was homeschooled, but now that didn’t matter. The summer of freedom started out fine, perfect even. They had more fun than any of them could imagine, and none of them wanted it to end. Unfortunately, college was a thing for most everyone involved, and soon the Losers would be leaving Derry to tackle their adult lives. Soon -- meaning one more night. The summer flew by faster than any of them believed. It was as if one moment they were taking a picture with their caps and gowns on, and the next they were about to leave their small town and best friends.

It was why they were getting together one last time the night before they left. Drinks were involved. The sucky radio Ben always had to fix was playing some song. The stars were out. The only thing lighting up the barrens were a few flashlights they laid out around them. Richie sat on a rock by the shallow lake, back facing it as his eyes were glued to Eddie. A beer was held in one hand and the other had a half burnt cigarette. It had gone out a while ago, Richie too stuck in place to relight it.

Eddie had a cup of something alcoholic in his hand, his fourth one of the night, and he was shout-singing along to the song that was playing with Ben and Mike, dancing too. He was happy and carefree and glowing under the lights of the flashlights and stars, and with each passing moment Richie could feel his heart just swell with love as he watched the other boy. Richie took another swig of the beer and smiled as Eddie and Ben clung to one another as they dramatically sang the next lyrics, putting Mike into a laughing fit.

“You gotta tell him,” Bev said as she walked up. She sat beside Richie and took the cigarette, relighting it. After, she offered it back but Richie declined. “Rich, sweetie... You have to.”

Richie motioned towards Eddie, still smiling albeit it was a sad one now, and turned to face Beverly. “Look at him,” he said, and she did. “He’s having the best time of his life over there! I can’t ruin that.”

Bev gave him a sad look. “You won’t.”

He shook his head. “No. It’s been fine the way it is-.”

“He kissed a girl as a dare four months ago, and you sobbed in your pillow for the rest of the weekend.”

“I was being overly dramatic. You know how I am! Besides, I still got his mom, don’t I?” It was a lame attempt at a joke. A failed one, too. Because Bev neither laughed or reprimanded him. He sighed and took the last gulp of beer.

“You have to tell him,” she repeated. “We’re going to be busy because of college, and we’re not exactly going to the same one.”

Richie pursed his lips. He could feel a lump forming in his throat. “We made plans to meet up every weekend if we can. Our universities aren’t too far away.”

“Rich-.”

“Bev,” he interrupted her, pleading, “Just stop. Okay? I’ll tell him when I want to.”

She looked at her best friend, studied him. Then, she nodded solemnly. “Alright,” she whispered.

The next few minutes were spent with the two sitting on the rock as Beverly finished the cigarette. Neither spoke after that and it wasn’t until Bill ran up to drag them tot he others when they left their spot. Richie grabbed another beer after throwing the empty bottle into the trash bag Stan brought for, well, trash. Richie made a few jokes of putting himself in it considering they call him Trashmouth, and Mike at picked him up and acted as if he was going to do just that.

“Put that fucker where he belongs!” Eddie shouted, grinning.

“At least put him in recycling,” Ben said.

“He doesn’t deserve to be recycled,” Stan teased.

All the while, Richie was laughing in Mike’s arms, a few drops of his beer getting on the both of them. Mike eventually set him down and put an arm around Richie’s shoulders. “Nah, I’d never throw out the Trashmouth,” Mike said. He smirked and backed away, feigning a look of disgust as he waved a hand around. “Only because you stink too much!”

Richie gave a sarcastic laugh. “I’m not the one who works on a farm!”

“Oh, he’s g-g-got you there,” Bill laughed.

“Which makes it worse,” Bev joined in.

“Trash the Trashmouth, okay, ha ha, very funny!”

“You started it, Rich,” Eddie reminded him with a slight slur as he walked up to him.

Richie rolled his eyes with a smile. “Yeah, I know.” Subconsciously he put an arm on Eddie’s shoulders, and then he looked down at him, a bit surprised to already find Eddie’s eyes on him. Richie’s eyes lowered to the shirt Eddie was wearing and lifted a brow, smiling knowingly, trying not to react to the arm resting against his back and the hand messing with his own shirt. “Love your shirt, Eds.”

“Of course you do. You gave it to me a few years ago, I’m actually surprised in genuinely fits me well.”

“A little oversized but you’re still cute, cute, cute!” Richie snaked his arm further around Eddie’s shoulders and neck, and pinched the other’s cheek. “But, may I remind you, I never gave it to you. You stole it.”

“...No, I don’t think I did.”

“You did.”

“Nope.”

“I literally watched you take it from my closet.”

“It was a dream.”

Richie scoffed. He gave in, “Alright, fine.”

Eddie grinned, proud of himself.

The next few moments they just stood there. Beverly’s words flooded Richie’s mind as he looked down at Eddie. For a solid minute, he had an inward battle with himself about what to do, but as Eddie laughed at something Stan said to Ben, the winner of that inner battle was clear.

Richie tightened his grip around Eddie’s shoulders for a split second to get his attention. “Hey. Eds, can I tell you something?” Now or never, Tozier, he told himself, you can do it. You gotta. This has been six years in the making so just fucking do it.

“You know you can, Rich. C’mon, tell me.”

Now or never, you piece of shit.

“We’re going to be busy because of college.”

Я люблю тебя.

Muffled confession under water.

“I don’t think I could hate you even if I tried.”

“Eddie, I-.”

“Guys!” Mike shouted in excitement and turned up the volume. “Listen!” A familiar tune met Richie’s ears. It was the song all of them loved to jam out to, one they vowed to never not dance along to no matter where they were. Eddie was quick to leave Richie’s side to join the others, not hearing the last part of what Richie had to say.

“-love you.” Shit.

+ i.

Richie could cry- no. No, he was crying. Tears steadily streamed down his face, mixing with the dirt and mud and blood from the final fight with It. They should be celebrating. They should be happy. They should be basking in the glory of finally having that piece of shit defeated after 27 years. But that wasn’t the case. Eddie got stabbed and it didn’t look good at all. Richie rid himself of his jacket and pressed it against the wound. Eddie’s eyes were shutting, head lulling.

“No, no nonono,” Richie muttered through some tears. He patted Eddie’s face to stir him awake enough to open his eyes; a sound left Eddie’s throat and Richie didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing as Eddie shut his eyes again. “Not you. C’mon, please not you, I can’t lose you. You’re too important to me. Eds. Eds! Eddie, hey, stay awake for me, alright? I can’t lose you- I can’t- fuck, I love you so much, please, I’m so in love with you. Don’t die on me, please.”

“Richie,” Beverly spoke from her spot, equally as dirty as the rest of them. “Sweetie, I don’t think...” She trailed off, unable to finish her own sentence.

Ben moved forward quickly. He bent down and watched Eddie closely for a second. “He’s still breathing,” he whispered. Frantically, he started pulling off his belt.

“Guys, the house is falling apart!” Mike shouted at them.

“He’s still breathing!” Ben shouted back.

He gently pushed Richie away to put the belt around Eddie, securing Richie’s jacket tightly over the wound. Mike was then walking over, and so was Bill. The sounds of the house falling down filled their ears as they picked Eddie up. Richie had his shoulders, Ben stayed by his abdomen to make sure the belt stayed, and Mike had his feet. Bill made sure they didn’t need any help before looking to their redheaded woman.

“Bev, go ahead and go! Make sure Stan knows we’re coming back and tell him about Eddie!” Bill yelled.

Beverly nodded and ran off, and Bill led the rest of them through everything. It was hard and more than a few times did they think they were about to be crushed by everything, but they made it out just in time. They didn’t stop there. They carried Eddie to Richie’s very new truck and set him in the bed of it, Stan in the driver’s seat, the engine already running. Beverly was in the passenger’s seat, and Bill and Ben got in the back while Richie and Mike stayed with Eddie. To everyone’s surprise, Stan sped down the Derry roads as fast as he could but also as safely as he could.

“Rich...” Eddie croaked out.

Richie bent down further and smiled through the tears, hand clutching Eddie’s. He did his best to ignore much he looked like death. “We’re getting you to a hospital,” he said. “Hang on, okay?”

“I gotta...’ell y’somethin’.”

He shook his head stubbornly. “You keep those fucking words in you mouth, Eddie. Tell me when you aren’t bleeding from a stab wound.”

“He’s losing a lot of blood, man,” Mike whispered, as if trying to say something.

Richie looked at Mike, glaring, and blinked back more tears that wanted to fall.

“Rich, I...” Eddie trailed off. Then, the grip on Richie’s hand weakened and Eddie’s eyes shut completely as his head lulled to the side for a second time.

“No. Shit. Fuck, Stan!”

“His pulse is weak-.”

“Mike, I love you, but shut the fuck!”

Mike, instead of arguing, nodded and hit the back window of the truck. Bill opened it. “Hurry up!”

“I’m already speeding!” Stan shouted from the inside.

“Speed faster!” Bev yelled. He did.

“Two more miles!” Ben told them.

“I just called, there’ll be someone waiting for us,” Bill said.

One minute later, Richie’s truck was zooming into the parking lot of the hospital and coming to a surprisingly steady halt by the entrance to the emergency room. Doctors and paramedics came rushing out instantly, taking Eddie away, the losers following them inside as far as they would let them. Richie stood at the double doors and stared through the window. He sucked in a deep breath. Then, he found the nearest trashcan and puked.

It seemed as if the next couple of hours went by slowly on purpose, taunting Richie and the others. During those hours, Richie scrubbed Eddie’s blood off of hands while sobbing in the men’s bathroom, and when he came back out to the waiting room he got tackled in a group hug which just caused him to cry some more. Stan shed a few tears and Ben wiped away a few that slipped out. Mike and Bill were refusing to cry just yet, while Beverly started to but stopped, telling herself and the boys that Eddie was still alive. The amount of tears increased when the doctor came in and told them that Eddie miraculously made it, but he wasn’t awake just yet.

They visited Eddie as much as they could. Someone was always in the room at all times, waiting for their favorite fireball to wake up. Richie stayed there the most. He only left to clean up and change clothes. He didn’t want Eddie out of his sight too much, not after what happened.

It was the morning of the second day when Eddie finally woke up.

“Wake up, fuckface,” Eddie said at noticing Richie, the man sleeping in a chair beside the bed, head using Eddie’s legs as a pillow.

Richie sat up almost instantly. His eyes were wide with joy at first until he realized he had no glasses on, and suddenly he was squinting to see Eddie better. He fumbled around for his glasses and slipped them on once he found them, and his smile grew ten times at seeing the other man clearly. “Eddie!” He exclaimed happily, and koala-ed him the best he could without causing any more harm or pain. He was laughing, then he was crying. ��Shit, I thought I’d lost you.”

Eddie placed a comforting hand in Richie’s hair, and he closed his eyes as he rested his cheek on Richie’s head. “I know,” he whispered. “I’m okay now, though... Hey, Rich?”

“Hm?”

“Я люблю тебя.”

Richie froze. He slowly moved away and sat back in the chair, staring at Eddie with pure shock. “What did you say?”

Eddie smiled. “I think you know.”

Richie blinked. He was stunned. He ran a hand through his hair and slumped back. “I thought you didn’t know what that meant?”

“I didn’t. But, uh, that’s the first thing I remembered when I got back here. I asked Siri what it meant.”

With lowered brows, Richie’s jaw dropped. “Siri told you that I loved you before I fucking got to properly? What the fuck!?”

Eddie busted out laughing, holding his side with the stitches. “Oh- fuck, this priceless!”

“I’m killing Siri.”

“Aw, no, babe! Don’t, she helps me with driving,” Eddie said, nearly pouting.

Richie snorted, almost completely missing the term of endearment. “I’ve been in love you since we were fucking twelve, and a piece of shit technology tells you before I get the chance. Unbelievable!”

“I mean... You could tell me now.”

“Tell you what- oh. Oh.” He scooted closer to the bed and leaned forward. For a moment, he thought about making a joke about his mother, but decided against it, even though it would have been hilarious. He smiled, taking one of Eddie’s hands. Nerves coursed through him, but he fought against them. He wasn’t a terrified teenager anymore. “Eddie -- my Eds Spagheds -- I love you. I always have, and I always will.”

Eddie beamed at him. “I love you, too.”

If Richie’s grin could grow anymore, it would. And maybe it did.

Because in front of him was the love of his life alive, saying he loved him back.

Richie then leaned all the way forward and kissed Eddie, and Eddie kissed back. Bill barged in then, ready to announce that breakfast had arrived, but stopped himself at seeing Richie and Eddie. He froze, stared, and then backed up, smiling slowly as he shut the door. He turned to the other losers, who looked confused.

“Well,” Bill said. “It took a little over two fucking decades but they’re finally together.”

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #it #the losers club #beverly marsh #ben hanscom #bill denbrough #mike hanlon #stan uris #my writing #*#5 plus 1 #they're in love!!

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arcanesupern0va · 5 years

Text

Down With The Rickness; Ch2: Silhouettes

Summary: We confront Nova's parents, Nova gets drunk and then a certain group of guardians show up. Should be fun stuff.

A/N: Sorry this chapter took so long! I kinda wrote myself into a corner and it took me three completely different versions of this chapter to find something I was actually happy with. Next chapter will absolutely feature Drunk!Rick (because I mean, obviously. I'm using the Vindicators) and I'm absolutely going to write Drunk!Rick as the sappiest fucking asshole in the world.

CW: Vaguely suicidal tones in this chapter Pairing: Rick Sanchez/Reader Word Count: 6542

My ao3

Masterlist

~Rick In The Water~

|Ch1: Such Small Hands|

+Nova+

“Fuck this Rick, I’m not going,” I declared for the third time that night. Rick sighed again, flopping down into his workshop chair as he rested his head in his hands.

“Fine, we won’t go,” he sighed, leaning back to look up me, his frustration apparent in every tired wrinkle.

“Seriously? This was your idea in the first place!” I fumed, pacing back and forth. It was supposed to be an easy plan. We meet up with them in a public place, I tell them politely but firmly that I wouldn’t be contacting them after tonight. If my father decided to act out, Rick would be there to drive the point home. It was supposed to be so easy and still, I was absolutely terrified to the core.

“Nova, my ability to care about any of this is about to run out.”

“You were the one that seemed so adamant about this being the way we deal with them!”

“Yeah, that was before five wardrobe changes and two emotional breakdowns,” he snarled. “I want you to get over it but at this point, seeing you like this isn’t fucking worth it.”

“This was your fucking idea!” I repeated, throwing my hands up in the air in frustration.

“I can change my goddamn mind, Nova. I thought it would work out fine to just confront them, but you are losing your goddamn mind. This isn’t worth it,” he told me firmly, standing up to grab my shoulders and stop me pacing. I froze in place, trembling under his touch as echoes of shattering glass and dull screaming played on repeat. He pulled away quickly, cursing under his breath and sinking back into his chair.

“I-I’m sorry, Rick. I’ll just go,” I murmured, furious with myself above all else. He didn’t respond as I willed my legs to take me anywhere else, anywhere but right here.

I walked into the main house to sounds of mirth in the living room. Jerry had bought the kids some kind of cheap VR headset and from the sound of it, Madi, Summer and Morty were enjoying the misguided purchase. I stopped just short of the archway, unable to face Madi in such an unstable mindset so I headed for the front door instead, yanking it open and heading down the street.

It was weird to fight with Rick like that but arguments had become far more frequent ever since he delved into my dreams. He’d become cold and distant. It wasn’t unlike he was when he first came back, the difference being even back then he always looked happy to see me but now he just wore a constant look of regret at the sight of me. Beth explained everything they saw in my head but nothing stood out as something that could’ve upset him. It was like he just didn’t care anymore.

“My ability to care about any of this is about to run out.”

I walked aimlessly, turning down random streets in an attempt to get good and truly lost for a little while. I turned a corner, finding myself on a dark street where my usual fear would kick in to send me in the other direction but instead I just I felt numb to it. I had gotten lost but it was in my own head. I couldn’t stop replaying every brief interaction I’d had with Rick trying to figure out what I could’ve done wrong. I was so lost in thought, in fact, that it wasn’t until it was too late when I started realizing everything looked all too familiar. Nauseating memories haunted me from every turn as I found myself on the street I grew up on. It looked eerily the same as the last time I’d seen it, the lawn decorations and landscaping were different, sure, and most of the cars were upgraded but there was no mistaking where I was. I was home.

“Goddammit Lainie!” an angry voice called from down the street, “Let’s just fucking go, alright? We’re going to be late.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” a mousy voice called after him, sounding about as horrified as I felt. As I neared my childhood home, I watched my mother shoot down the front steps toward my father’s truck. I couldn’t stop myself as I walked closer to them, coming into the light of a streetlight. My mom looked up at the movement, narrowing her eyes to try to discern the figure before her.

“(Y/N)?” she whispered, inching toward me. My father passed a glance over his shoulder as he started climbing into his truck, his nose turning up at the sight of me.

“H-Hi Mom,” I greeted her timidly, twisting my hands over and over as she rushed toward me.

“Oh, honey, I’m so glad you’re okay. What are you doing out here? I thought we were meeting you at Shoney’s?” she asked, wrapping her arms around me and looking relieved to see me.

“I-I was nervous,” I admitted, “I went for a walk and I- I just kinda ended up here.”

“Charlie, Charlie look. It’s our baby girl,” my mom cried out to my dad, tears streaming down her face. My father grunted in response, cautiously watching our reunion in his rear view mirror.

“H-How are you, Mom?” I asked nervously, unsure of what to expect from the weeping woman in front of me. Of all the ways this scenario played out in my head, it never resulted in either of them being exactly happy to see me. I was half right, Dad was going to be distant and cold no matter what, but my mother’s reaction floored me.

“Oh, I’m great, baby,” she wept, stepping back to take in my appearance entirely. “Sweetheart, have you been taking care of yourself? I know your husband just died and all, but you’ll need to find someone who can take care of you and your daughter.”

“M-Mom, I can take care of myself,” I told her nervously, stepping away and crossing my arms across my chest. There it was, the same obsession with appearances that I remembered from my youth on painful display.

“I know you can, sweetheart,” she chastised me, taking another step closer, “but you have another person to think about. Do you have a job? Are you financially stable? Did he have a life insurance policy on him?”

“Mom, I’m fine,” I assured her firmly, recoiling away from her. “My daughter will be well taken care of. I don’t need someone else to do it for me.”

“Where is she right now? Is someone keeping an eye on her?” Mom grilled me, peeking around me as though Madison would jump out at any second. When I didn’t answer, a smug smile curled over her features, “See, you have someone taking care of her right now, don’t you?”

“Sh-She’s home alone,” I lied, “She’s old enough that I can go for a goddamn walk without having to have her with me.”

“No need to be hostile, (Y/N),” she reprimanded me, wagging her finger in my face. “You may have run out on us, but we’re still your parents and you will respect us.”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“Where are you living? Obviously in walking distance,” she barreled over me, looking over my shoulder for a house that didn’t exist.

“Don’t worry about where I live. I came here to tell you-”

“We do have rights, you know. We deserve to see our granddaughter.”

“Mom! Stop!” I snapped, “I don’t want you to contact me anymore. I don’t know why you did in the first place but my life has been a lot easier without you and Dad in it and I prefer to keep it that way.”

“(Y/N), don’t you dare talk to your mother like that,” my father growled, finally climbing out of his truck and slamming the door. “If you try to stop her from seeing our grandchild, we will get lawyers involved.”

“Just leave me alone,” I snarled, backing away slowly from them. A firm figure behind me stopped me in my tracks as warm, calloused hands pushed me behind him. Rick towered ominously over my mother, glaring down as she stared up at him, unthreatened.

“Who in the hell are you?” she asked, squinting up at him before returning her gaze to me.

“I’m a friend of (Y/N)’s,” he growled at her, “and you’re going to leave her and her family the fuck alone if you know what’s good for you.”

“Look buddy,” my dad started, crossing the yard to come to my mother’s defense. “I don’t know who you think you are-”

“N-Not your buddy, guy,” Rick stopped him with a shrug. “(Y/N) wants you to leave her alone, I suggest you do that. Continuing to harass her doesn’t end well for you.”

“Listen here, you scrawny old fuck. I haven’t been in a fight in years but if you keep talking to my wife that way, I will take you to task.”

“D-Dad, don’t-”

“I’d listen to your daughter there, Charlie,” Rick sneered, flicking the nametag on my father’s chest.

“Look here you piece of shit-”

“I’d say, out of respect for (Y/N), you get one more of those,” Rick interrupted again, relishing in the fury he was inciting in my father. I could see the veins bulging in his face at Rick’s disrespect and it was all I could do to resist the urge to giggle nervously.

“C-Come on, let’s just go,” I murmured softly to Rick, grabbing his hand and interlocking our fingers. He met my gaze, a soft look flashing over his features before it distorted in anger as my father reared back, sucker punching Rick right in his gut.

“H-Hey, that’s the hardest working liver in the galaxy,” Rick swore, recovering far quicker than my father had expected.

“Charlie, stop!” my mom screamed, grabbing my dad’s arm in an attempt to pull him away only to earn a backhanded slap for her troubles. Rick sighed, lifting his arm up as his hand shifted into the large gun it held within. My father froze in his tracks, staring up at the large weapon pointed directly at his head.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t do it,” Rick asked me, his boredom oozing into every syllable.

“R-Rick, I- Uh,” I stammered. I could think of all the moral reasons not to kill him but I knew telling Rick to spare him because it was ‘wrong’ to kill him would just earn me a hearty chuckle. I watched my father, cowering on the ground with his hands over his head as his only defense. Seeing him like this was invigorating in a way I never thought possible. His eyes broke from Rick’s feet and up to me, all consuming fear overwhelming him as a damp spot formed on his jeans.

“Please, (Y/N),” he pleaded, “I know I wasn’t the greatest father but-”

“Ah, ah. I asked Nova, not you,” Rick glared at him, swearing inwardly at the use of my nickname.

“N-Nova?” my mother whimpered, her eyes darting between the three of us. “I-Isn’t that what that Beth Sanchez girl called you?”

“Don’t bother with them, Rick,” I murmured, pulling him away from them. “They’re not worth it. You made your point. Let’s go home.”

“R-Rick? Rick Sanchez?” my mother spoke up again, this time with more determination in her voice. “You’re shacking up with your best friend’s father?”

“Nova, they're not going to stop, you know that right? Th-They contacted you in the first place because they think they can weasel back into your life now that you’re vulnerable,” Rick reasoned with me, facing them again. “Let me help you, Nova. Let me keep you safe.”

“You can’t, Rick,” I smiled sadly at him, “I just want to go.”

“I’m going to keep you safe, goddammit. I’ve gotta be able to do one fucking thing right. I wanted to kill Ryan from the get go, but you wouldn’t let me. Now you’re going to let them live because- What? They’re your family?”

“They’re not my family,” I hissed, glaring up at Rick stubbornly.

“So let me do this, let me take care of you.”

My eyes flicked back to my parents one last time before turning to walk away. “Do whatever you have to do Rick, I don’t want to know anything about it,” I relented, walking away from the house for what I could only hope to be the last time.

Rick didn’t answer but he also didn’t follow me. I was a couple blocks away when he finally caught up with me again, keeping his distance as he followed behind me silently. When we got home, I climbed into Rick’s ship wordlessly, desperate to avoid any human interaction that would require me to explain anything that just happened. Rick had probably killed them and I couldn’t quite reconcile just how okay I was with that possibility. He didn’t immediately follow me into the ship, disappearing into the house before returning with a large bottle of vodka. He climbed into the ship with me, starting it and flying out into the vacuum of space without a word.

He flew us to a large, mostly vacant planet, landing next to a large lake. He climbed out of the ship, grabbing the bottle of vodka before making his way down to the shore. I watched as he kicked off his shoes, tossing them to the side and pulling his pant legs up to allow the small waves to wash over his feet. He opened the bottle, pulling out two plastic cups from his lab coat and filling them both in a silent offering to join him. I considered a moment before wrenching the door open and stripping down to my underwear as I followed him down to the shore.

I picked up the plastic cup and breezed past him, making my way out into the open water. I let the cool water swirl around me, taking a long drink from the cup as I waded out further into the open expanse. A small voice in my head was pleading with me to turn around, to consider the danger of going out into open water I knew nothing about but I couldn’t bring myself to care about the danger. What was the worst that was going to happen? I stop having to deal with all of these extremely traumatic issues? Oh boy, wouldn’t that suck.

“Nova, here-”

I finished the last of my cup off, hesitantly turning to face him only to find him extending the bottle out to me. I waded back over to him, allowing him to fill the cup up before heading back out into the open water. He watched me carefully but said nothing else as I ventured out further, going in so deep I had to hold the cup above my head as I submerged myself completely in the water. I held my breath, allowing the suffocating feeling to chip away at the pain I had buried down inside. Eventually I wasn’t able to hold it any longer, letting out a long breath that bubbled around me. I resurfaced only to finish off the remnants of the cup before tossing it aside and submerging myself again. I swam deeper under the water, ignoring the burning in my lungs. The pain soothed me in a demented way so I swam deeper and deeper to allow it to incapsulate me. My body wouldn’t allow it however and despite my desires to stay, my legs kicked me back to the surface.

“Nova, what in the fuck are you doing?” Rick called from the shore. To my surprise, he was much further away then when I went under. I started reluctantly swimming back but my head was spinning from the alcohol and my limbs were tired. I barely made it back to the shore line, coughing up water as I crawled up on the beach.

“I was fine,” I slurred at Rick coldly, grabbing the plastic cup he was holding out of his hand and refilling it.

“The fuck are you doing, Nova? Are you trying to drown yourself out there?” he demanded, glaring furiously at me.

“No, Rick. I’m not a fucking idiot. I was just swimming,” I told him dismissively. What did he care anyway? He was doing everything he possibly could to distance himself from me anyway. I drank deeply from Rick’s cup, finishing it off before handing it back to him before heading back out into the water.

“Nova- Stop!” he bellowed, grabbing my arm. I glared at him as I pulled my arm away from him, heading back into the water despite his concerns.

“Leave me alone, Rick,” I murmured coldly, stumbling back out into the water.

“The fuck, Nova?” he demanded again, reaching for my arm again. I dodged clumsily, falling into the water as he sighed in exasperation. “Do you seriously want to die, Nova? Because it sure as fuck seems like it.”

“The fuck do you care?” I spat at him, my speech slurred.

“Wh-What the fuck are you talking about?” he asked, infuriated. “Everything we’ve been through- You think I don’t fucking care if you fucking die all of a sudden?”

“I-It’s not all of a sudden,” I mumbled stubbornly, “Y-You’re the one being fucking weird.”

“Oh, I’m the weird one,” he retorted with a roll of his eyes. “J-J-Just get out of the fucking water and tell me what the fuck’s going on with you.”

“You wanna know what’s going on with me?” I asked, unsuccessfully attempting to pull myself back to my feet only to fall back down with a splash. “My fucking husband is dead, my parents found me because of it and they’re probably dead too, not that I want you to confirm or deny that, mainly because I was too much of a bitch to just fucking tell you to do it.”

“A-A-Alright, why don’t you come back up here,” he sighed, wading out into the water to pull me over his shoulder and carry me back to the beach. His touch was surprisingly gentle and my chest ached when he rested me back down on the shore and moved away.

“Why don’t you want me anymore?” I asked, eyes brimming with tears. His eyes bulged at the question, looking at me incredulously.

“Okay, so you are clearly fucking trashed if that’s what you think,” he said flatly.

“You don’t want anything to do with me anymore,” I sobbed, unable to look at him. “ E-Ever since everything happened and my nightmares stopped you’ve been so distant. It’s like you’ve been avoiding me.” Rick opened his mouth to answer when a large spotlight opened over us. Rick and I covered our eyes against the harsh light as it grew closer, landing next to us. A hodgepodge group exited a flashy ship and Rick groaned as realization dawned over his face.

“Rick Sanchez?” a deep feminine voice called out. A female form made up of an actual galaxy hovered toward us, the disdain on her face at the sight of Rick mirrored on the faces of her companions.

“A-Are you fucking kidding me?” Rick growled as the woman came to a stop in front of him. “What in the hell do you assholes want? I’m a little fucking busy right now.”

“H-Hey buddy, who’s this?” a charming voice called from behind the galaxy woman, as a man watched me cautiously.

“R-Rick, who are they?” I asked nervously, my head spinning from the bright lights and alcohol. I clung to Rick’s arm desperately and he pulled me closer into him, gently massaging my arm in an attempt to soothe me.

“Th-They’re the Vindicators,” Rick explained, his irritation evident in every syllable. “They’re a team of ‘superheroes’ that Morty and I helped out a while back.”

“Hello,” the galaxy woman greeted me cordially, “What is your name?”

“I-I-I’m N-Nova,” I stammered, feeling miniscule under her piercing gaze.

“Ah, that’s interesting,” she smirked, looking around at her companions. Rick groaned again, shaking his head in disgust as she continued, “My name is Supernova and as Rick said, we are a team of superheroes.”

“Wh-What?” I sputtered, looking to Rick again to make sure this wasn’t some elaborate joke. He met my gaze briefly, shrugging in response to my wordless confusion. “D-Did my nickname-”

“N-No, I didn’t even know her when you got that nickname,” Rick explained quickly, “It’s just a really annoying coincidence.”

“I’m Vance Maximus,” the charming man introduced himself with a suave grin, his wandering gaze making me all too aware of how exposed I was. Rick quickly took notice, offering me his lab coat to return some semblance of dignity to me while shooting daggers at Vance.

“This is Million Ants, Alan Rails, and Crocubot,” Supernova continued, naming off the final three people surrounding her. I nodded in acknowledgement, recoiling into Rick as the large ghost man called Alan approached us.

“Look Rick, Worldender’s back. We need your help,” he explained reluctantly.

“Why the fuck do I care? You were the ones that didn’t like my methods,” Rick shot back, “Y-Y-You really upset my grandson you know, he really liked you guys.”

“Oh, I remember that kid,” Vance remarked looking around at the other Vindicators, “Wh-Why don’t you bring him then. I’m sure he’d like that.”

“I’m not helping you assholes,” Rick told them flatly, opening a portal into Morty’s bedroom and withdrawing the boy desperately trying to pull his pants up.

“H-Hey Rick, y-y-you can’t just do that, okay?” he chastised his grandfather through beet red cheeks. “I-I-I’m fourteen, y-y-ya know? I have things I have to take care of-”

“Morty, for the love of me, shut the fuck up,” Rick swore. Morty finally noticed the Vindicators standing behind Rick, his eyes going wide as all of the color drained from his face.

“H-Hey kid,” Vance waved awkwardly, not meeting Morty’s gaze. “You, uh, you wanna go on an adventure with us to put an end to Worldender?”

“O-Oh shit, go on another adventure with the Vindicators? O-O-Of course, Vance,” Morty gushed, his hero worship washing away his embarrassment, much to Rick’s disgust.

“Go ahead and go with them Morty, get them off my back,” Rick scowled, turning to walk back to his ship.

“Rick, we need your help more than we need Morty,” Supernova pressed, hovering in front of Rick to stop him. “No offense kid.”

“Look, I’ve got way better things to do than to hang around you cliches. Sanchez, out.” Rick pushed past her pulling his ship door open with one last look over his shoulder at me.

“Rick, m-maybe we should help them?” I suggested hesitantly, earning a growl. “We haven’t done any adventuring for a long time.”

“L-Look, Nova, you wanna go with them, fine, but I’m not putting up their paper thin personalities and one dimensional ‘problems.’ I’d tell you to have fun but you won’t. Oh, and watch out for Vance.” He slammed his door, turning over his engine and shooting off into space, leaving Morty and I to watch until he disappeared in the horizon.

“H-H-He just left us?” I murmured, wrapping his coat around me tightly. He had to be coming back, right?

“He does that Aunt Nova, you’ll get used to it,” Morty grumbled, turning back to the Vindicators.

“H-He just left me here?” I whimpered again, tears filling my eyes as I stared up into the dark sky in disbelief, expecting him to reappear any second.

“Come on, Aunt Nova. Let’s just get out of here.”

They led us onto their ship, taking us back to an admittedly luxurious commandship. We were offered seperate rooms and allowed to get acclimated. I took the opportunity to change into new clothes, a clean white tee shirt and loose shorts before we were led to their conference room to be briefed on the mission at hand. I kept Rick’s lab coat on, clinging to it desperately as though it would miraculously make Rick appear the tighter I tucked it around my body.

A new hero, introduced to us as Noob Noob, gushed about finally being invited on an adventure and was surprisingly eager to learn about Morty and I. They offered us a wide spread of food, though only Morty and Vance dug in. The rest of the Vindicators weren’t much for human food, with Million Ants being a colony of ants and Crocobot being, well, a robot crocodile. My head was still reeling from the alcohol sloshing around in my stomach and just the smell of the food sent me running for the toilet.

“Aunt Nova?” Morty called from behind me hesitantly as I wiped the leftover vodka away and pushed myself away from the no longer pristine toilet bowl. I turned to face him weakly, flushing away the contents of my stomach as I pulled myself off the floor and stumbled over the sink to clean myself up.

“What’s up, Morty?”

“Aww, jeez, are you okay? You don’t look so good,” he asked, inching further into the bathroom to get a better look at me. “Look, Rick probably won’t come back for us until later. He really hates the Vindicators, especially Vance.”

“I’m not worried about Rick, Morty. I could give a shit less what he does,” I lied, staring into the mirror trying to convince myself it was the truth.

“Good, Rick’s not worth it. After everything that you’ve been through, you don’t need more piled on from him,” Morty fumed, “Rick doesn’t care about anyone. I hate to say it, but it was only a matter of time until you stopped being new and shiny to him.” I turned to face him, tears burning in my eyes at his words.

“I know you and your grandpa have a tough history but you don’t know shit about our relationship,” I shot back at him. “He’s done a lot for you and me, whether you realize it or not.”

“He left you and my mom before and he’s doing it again right now. Rick doesn’t care about anyone but himself,” he repeated, driving his point home. I stared at him blankly, my mouth agape as I tried to formulate some kind of retort but nothing came out. “I-I’m sorry, Aunt Nova, but you needed to know. I don’t want you to get hurt any more than you already have.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about Morty,” I glared at him. “I’m going to go sleep this shit off, I’ll see you in the morning.” I pushed past him, ignoring his continued arguments as I stumbled into my room, slamming the door in his face.

I collapsed onto the bed, covering myself Rick’s lab coat in a sad attempt at comforting myself. His scent encapsulated me, making it almost impossible to ignore the constant replays of my argument with Rick that my brain was insistent on focusing on. Rick wasn’t good with his feelings but how hard was it to offer any kind of reassurance? And for him to try to say I was the one being weird, only to disappear on me yet again was just the worst kind of joke imaginable. Maybe it was only fun for him while he had an enemy to fight against in the form of Ryan and now that there was no immediate danger his interest was waning. Tears sprung out in earnest at the thought and I threw the coat away from me in disgust, turning away from it only to end up crying myself to sleep for what felt like the hundredth night in a row.

*+*

“Rick! What are you doing here?!” Morty shrill voice woke me up. I shot up in my bed, my entire body aching from the little bit of sleep I had managed. “Y-Y-You need to go, you really upset Aunt Nova, you know.”

“Why in the hell do you think I came back,” the gruff voice I was so desperate to hear growled. “Which room is she in?” His voice grew louder as he got closer to my room, much to Morty’s ire.

“Just go home, Rick,” Morty scolded his grandfather from outside of my door.

“I’m going to apologize to her, then I’m going to solve this Worldender shit and then I’m going home. I wasn’t going to just leave her here with these assholes, y-y-you idiot.”

“Leave Aunt Nova alone. She doesn’t need any more of your shit. She spent the entire night crying, y-y-you know? Why can’t you just go ahead and leave her for good so she can move on with her life.” It was now or never, Morty was close to hitting a nerve in Rick. I stood up quickly, heading straight for the door to break up the fight. My hand hovered over the button to open it when Rick spoke again.

“Look, Morty, you don’t know shit about what Nova needs,” Rick sneered, “You’re out here doing all this talking for her, why don’t we just ask her what she wants.”

I pressed the button, finding Morty wearing a vest with the Vindicator’s logo and Rick looking like his head was going to explode from all of his contained rage. Morty looked up at me, his anger painted over his features as I gestured for Rick to come in. Rick grinned smugly at the boy, pushing past him and pulling me into the room with him. He closed the door in Morty’s face, his facade dropping as he pulled me into his arms, hugging me tightly.

“R-Rick, I can’t- I can’t breathe,” I sputtered, trying to gently free myself from his grasp.

“Nova, are you okay? I shouldn’t have left, I just-”

“Your lab coat is over there, you can take it and go,” I interrupted, not interested in whatever excuse he had lined up. He stiffened, not meeting my gaze as he grabbed it, sliding it on before sitting down on the bed.

“Y-You know, I couldn’t just leave you here with these assholes. I was really upset but if you need me to be there for you then, well, here I am.”

“That’s nice and all Rick, but don’t do me any favors,” I rolled my eyes, heading into my bathroom to get ready to face the rest of the ship’s inhabitants. Everyone had heard me crying, but I didn’t need to go out there and make it so blatantly obvious.

“I-It’s not a favor. I fucked up but I’m here now,” he insisted, standing up and moving closer to me. I rebuffed, moving out of his reach for a towel as his hand grazed my elbow. As desperately as I wanted to see him, having him here in front of me right now trying to apologize was just infuriating.

“I see that,” I murmured coldly, pushing past him and out of the room entirely. I wanted to forgive him, I knew he hadn’t meant it as a slight against me personally but every ache in my body reminded me that I just spent the entire night sobbing my eyes out over him. I pushed past him, making my way out into the conference room to find Morty talking to Vance as the rest of the Vindicators poured over a map.

“A-Aunt Nova,” Morty blurted as I walked into the room, “A-Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Morty, just hungry. Is there anything to eat?” I mumbled groggily, looking around the room blankly.

“I think I can help you out there little missy,” Vance interjected, extending a hand to lead me into the dining hall. “We’ve already eaten but there should be some pancakes left.”

“I don’t care what I eat, I’m just starving,” I assured him, following him into the kitchen.

“You know, if you ever need anyone to talk to who isn’t a psychotic scientist, you can always call me up,” he told me with a smile as he pulled out the leftovers from breakfast.

“I’m good, thanks,” I assured him flatly. He gave me a ‘you don’t know what you’re missing’ smile as he microwaved some sausages and pulled out a pan to start a fresh plate of pancakes.

“I’m just saying, you’re a pretty girl. You don’t need to put up with that crazy old coot if you want someone to make you feel good,” he continued, raising an eyebrow at me lecherously. I stared at him for a moment, wondering what kind of death wish he had before turning on my heel to search for the gallon of coffee it would take for me to know how to process this conversation.

“Vance, you’re needed out here.” Alan Rails appeared in the doorway, waving to Vance as he plated my pancakes and slid them over to me on the counter.

“Think about it,” he winked before following Alan back out into the meeting room. Under the plate, I found a holographic card with his contact information. I groaned at it, tossing it in the trash before plating the rest of my breakfast and grabbing my coffee. I opted to just eat in the kitchen, not wanting to subject myself to more of Vance’s misguided flirting. Shouting erupted from the adjacent room, Rick storming into the kitchen to find me looking less than amused as he fumed.

“These fucking assholes, and Morty- Can you believe he buys into their crap?” he ranted, glaring at the door behind him. “H-H-He used to think the shit I did was incredible. These paper mache personalities show up and suddenly I’m chopped fucking liver. Ungrateful little shit.”

“Maybe if you weren’t constantly yelling at him and telling him you thought he was worthless, maybe he would be more akin to you,” I mused flatly, taking a pointed bite out of my sausage.

“Oh, not you too,” he groaned. “You like these assholes? You think they’re super fucking fascinating or something too? They share the same five fucking personality traits in different shiny exteriors. They’re about as deep as a shower.”

“I don’t care about them either way,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “You seem to get really worked up about them though, you ever thought of working through that or something?”

“Oh, like you’re one to talk about working through anything,” Rick shot back clumsily. I stared at him for a moment, allowing him to find the flaw in his own logic. “Whatever Nova, these guys aren’t shit. Six of them and they can’t even kill a garbage villain like Worldender by themselves.”

“I don’t see you taking care of him either, Rick.”

“You’re just full of wise hangover wisdom today, aren’t you?” Rick fumed, storming out of the kitchen to leave me in peace to finish my breakfast. It was easier just to antagonize him while he was angry, a trick I’d learned watching him work on his gadgets. If he got mad enough, his stubborn determination would overcome his self doubt and he would end up victorious over whatever insignificant detail holding him back.

“Nova, will you be joining us tomorrow?” Supernova asked, hovering through the door.

Would I get no peace this morning?

“Y-Y-Yea, I don’t see what not,” I sputtered, finding myself enamoured by all of the beautiful colors she was made up of.

“Is that because you are able to help us, or because you are going with Rick?” she asked coolly, watching my face carefully.

“Why is everyone so interested in my relationship with Rick?” I snapped, “I was here before Rick decided to show up, if I’m going with anyone, I’m going with Morty.” Supernova nodded, ignoring my outburst as she considered a moment.

“I was just concerned, as you do not show any outward abilities that would come to our aide.”

“Neither does Morty.”

“This is not a babysitting mission,” she asserted, “We cannot guarantee your safety.”

“I don’t need your guarantees,” I shrugged. “Rick will be there, he’s got a knack for keeping me safe.”

“Alright, if you are aware of the dangers,” Supernova conceded, turning to leave.

“Thanks for the concern,” I grumbled, returning to my coffee. The door swung rhythmically as she exited and I knew if I wanted any peace and quiet I was going to have to hide. I slunk down against the metal cabinets, sipping my coffee slowly as my head throbbed. The silence lulled me into a stupor, and combined with my now full stomach, my eyes drifted shut for a moment until I had completely drifted off.

*+*

“H-Hey, time to wake up,” Noob Noob said, shaking me awake. At some point I had allowed myself to splay out on the floor, spreading out in the most comfortable possible position. I straightened up quickly, my eyes bleary as they tried to focus in on Noob Noob. “We’ve been looking all over for you. You know that floor is filthy, right?”

“I was just really tired,” I told him sleepily, “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“We heard,” he assured me bluntly, my cheeks flushing. “Do you need a change of clothes? Or a shower? I can accommodate with whatever you need.”

“I think I’ll just head back to my room,” I assured him, shaking my head. “Do you know where Rick is? Or more importantly, can you help me get back to my room without him following me?”

“Rick? Oh, he’s been drinking all morning. I think he’s passed out in the conference room.” Noob Noob grabbed my hand, pulling me up off the floor and leading me out into the kitchen. “Follow me, I’ll get you back.”

Noob Noob led me through the dining area, motioning for me to stop as we came up to the conference room. He peered in, looking around before grabbing my hand again and pulling me through the room swiftly. I spotted Rick drunkenly rambling at the TV in front of him, fortunately not noticing when we passed. Noob Noob stopped at my door, smiling as I thanked him for his assistance. I was grateful when he departed quickly, disappearing down the hall as I closed the door. I could feel the filth he’d mentioned, climbing into the shower to rinse it off along with the lake water that had saturated my hair last night.

The shower helped me feel a little better, revitalizing me as I climbed out only to find my clothes missing. They had been replaced with a Vindicators uniform and a small note from Noob Noob explaining that he had taken them to be washed. I pulled on the spandex uniform, surprised at how comfortable it was, even if it did put every single one of my curves on full display. I climbed back into bed, closing my eyes as I forced myself to just go to sleep.

+Ch3: Scene Of The Crime+

#rick and morty #rick sanchez x reader #rick and morty fanfiction #Rick Sanchez/reader

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reddielibrary · 5 years

Text

Help Me Remember

Prompt: you’re trying to remember who you made out with at that party last night and asking me for help but it was me who you made out with and I don’t want to tell you in case you’re disappointed AU

Written by: Monse | @jem-carstairs-is-perfection

Word Count: 3138

*click title to read on AO3

“I have an announcement to make!”

Groans and sighs were heard all over the room, as well as a thump when Stan threw what was closest to him, someone’s shoe, in Richie’s general direction, failing miserably before it landed on the floor.

“Beep fucking beep, Richie.” He said, shoving his head under his arms trying to block out his friend.

“I will not be silenced, Stanley!” Richie replied, climbing the sofa in which Bev was trying to sleep. “I need to share my news with the world!”

Thump!

“Ow, fuck Bev!”

“Jesus Christ, Richie you just kicked me in the chest!”

“It was Bev, she knocked me off the couch, Big Bill.”

“Why’re you standing on the couch to begin with?”

“Have you not been listening, Ben? I have an announcement.” Richie repeated, bouncing up from the floor.

“Can’t you make your announcement when we’re not hungover and barely awake?” Mike asked from the further end of the room. Somehow he had ended up curled around one of Mrs. Denbrough’s flower pots the night before.

“No, Mikey, this is far too important.”

“Can you at least tone it down a bit? I feel like you’re shouting right into my ear, Richie.” Eddie said, eyebrows knitted in a frown. It was all you could see of him, he was wearing Richie’s hoodie and it engulfed him completely, the collar coming up all the way to his nose.

“But I am excited, Eds! I get loud when I’m excited! I’m sure your mom has told you that.” Richie said, waggling his eyebrows and earning various grunts from his friends and a middle finger from Eddie.

“Well, I’m tired and I get murderous when I’m tired so unless you want to die without sharing your news, you better tell us what the fuck this is about so I can go back to sleep.” Bev said, voice calm and far more terrifying than any scream.

Richie cleared his throat dramatically. “Last night,” he said, pausing to create suspense and continuing only when Bill kicked him lightly on the shin. “I,” another pause, this time interrupted by a shove from Ben. “Met the love of my life.”

“And here we go again.” Stan said, voice muffled under his arms, which he had wrapped around his head, hoping to alleviate the pounding he felt.

Every once in a while, Richie would claim to have met his soulmate, his future husband or wife, the one. Most of those times he was drunk when he did and that person turned out to be some random girl who handed him a beer with a friendly smile or a guy who let him cut in in the line for the crowded bathroom. And every time Richie would make a fuss before realizing that they were in fact not the person he was going to spend the rest of his life with, only to do it all over again.

They should’ve expected Richie’s announcement would have to do with this, but somehow they never learned.

“Who was it this time?” Bill asked, and the eye roll could be heard in his voice. “Did someone hold the door for you when you went out for a smoke?”

“Or was it someone who complimented your shirt?” Bev added with a smirk.

“Guys, I’m fucking serious this time.” Richie said, annoyed that he was being shrugged off.

“That’s what you always say.”

“You don’t understand, this guy -I’m pretty sure it was a guy, the details are a bit blurry. This guy and I we had a connection, okay? He didn’t just smile at me or hand me something, we talked and we kissed.”

The admission sparked some interest in his Richie’s friends. Bev even gave up on her attempt to fall back asleep.

“You kissed, huh?” She asked, smirking.

Richie nodded intently. “And it was magical. There were fucking fireworks, I’m telling you.”

“Do you remember what he looked like?” Ben asked, curious.

“Other than beautiful, nah.”

“What about his name?”

“Nope.”

“What you guys talked about?”

“Nada.” Richie said, shaking his head. “You know I tend to forget things on my best days, Staniel, you can’t expect me to recall what happens when I’m drunk.”

“What are you going to do then? If you don’t remember anything about him.”

“Well, Billiam, that is what I have you all for.” Richie said, nudging his friend’s leg with his feet. Said friend was lying starfished on the floor, staring at the ceiling with a focused expression. “I was hoping you’d tell me if you saw me with anyone.”

“I don’t remember anything after we did tequila shots, Rich, sorry.” Bill told him and at the mention of tequila he scrunched up his nose. Between Richie and him they had finished more than half a bottle. Bill didn’t know how he made it through the night after that.

“I didn’t see you again after our drunk rendition of Dirty Dancing,” Bev said.

“Mike and I were dragged to a game of beer pong in the backyard.” Stan said. His pained expression and the fact that Mike was drooling on the carpet after falling asleep again told the others they hadn’t won the game. “When we came back inside you were already passed out in the armchair.”

Richie sighed, turning around to face Ben. He didn’t tend to drink much and Richie could swear he had seen him around several times last night. “What about you, Haystack?”

“I- uh. I was put in charge of the music and lost track of you after that. Sorry, Richie.” Ben said, after carefully thinking his answer.

Richie groaned, dropping to the floor between Stan and Bill. “You’re all useless!”

Stan snorted. “You’re the one who got so drunk you can’t remember who you made out with.”

“Shut up, Stan.”

“Wait. Eddie!”

Now it was Richie’s turn to snort. “Come on, Bev, I did not make out with Eddie last night.”

“I meant, Eddie was with you most of the night. I know because he complained about having to watch over your drunk ass.” Bev explained. “He must have seen you and your mystery guy.”

Richie clapped his hands together. “Brilliant, Bev.” He said, sitting up.

“Speaking of which, where is Eddie?” Bill wondered, angling his head towards the place where Eddie had spent the night.

He wasn’t there and none of them had noticed he slipped out of the room at some point.

He walked in from the kitchen a moment later, munching on a pop tart and stopping mid-step when he felt everyone’s eyes land on him.

“What?”

“Really, Eds, I’m trying to find the love of my life and instead of helping you run off to get food?”

Eddie shrugged. “I was hungry and you being dramatic is hardly a novelty.” He said, making his friends laugh. “Besides I don’t see how helpful I can be.”

“Bev said you were with me the entire night.” Richie pouted.

“Bev was also drunk off her ass.” Eddie said, slightly defensive, Bev scoffed, offended. “I was with you, yeah but then you left to get a beer and never returned.”

Richie sighed, flopping on the couch on top of Bev.

“Maybe you should give up, Richie.” Bill said, patting his ankle in comfort.

“Never! Someone must have seen him, whoever he was.”

“Unless he isn’t real.”

“Shut up, Stanley, he is!” Richie said, exasperated. “He was real and he was perfect. And I’ll figure out who he is, just you wait.” He added, making his friends sigh and groan, except for Eddie who kept his head down, not wanting his friends to see the worried expression on his face.

“Ben, wait.”

“Oh, sorry Eddie. I didn’t know you were going to order something else.” Ben said, slowing down so that Eddie could catch up with him. They were eating at the local diner, the seven of them and Ben had just excused himself to get another drink.

“I’m not but if I hear Richie mention his mystery guy one more time I might throw my milkshake at him.”

Ben chuckled. “I thought he would’ve let it go by now. It’s been what? A week already?”

“Yeah, but this is Richie we’re talking about, I’m not entirely sure he still isn’t looking for his old dog that ran away ten years ago.” Eddie said, rolling his eyes.

“Right. I’m surprised he didn’t put up a sign, offering a reward in exchange for information on this guy.”

Eddie snorted. “I wouldn’t put it past him so don’t mention that in front of him.”

“Noted.” Ben said with a laugh, he ordered his drink and they moved aside to wait for it to be ready. They did so in silence and were able to hear Richie talking their friends’ ears off.

Eddie rolled his eyes so hard, Ben thought it might give him a headache.

“I’m gonna murder him, I swear.” He said. “I wish I could just make him stop talking about it.”

“You can.”

Eddie snorted. “Never thought you would approve of violence, Ben.”

Ben chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what? Because the only way he will stop is if he figures out who this guy is.”

“Then tell him who he is.”

Eddie frowned, looking at Ben, confused and a little worried. “I don’t know who he is, Ben.”

Ben sighed, he had tried to keep quiet, he really did, after all, this was none of his business but it was painful to watch. “Eddie I know it was you, the guy Richie kissed. I saw the two of you at the party.”

Eddie drew in a sharp breath, head whipping in Ben’s direction. His eyes were wide and panicked and Ben felt a little bad for springing this upon him.

“I- what- Ben that’s- You don’t know what you saw, you were drunk.”

Ben shook his head. “I had nothing to drink that night.”

“You said you lost track of Richie, that you didn’t see him with anyone.”

“I lied, just like you did when you said you weren’t with him the whole night.”

“I-”

“Eddie.”

“Fuck.” Eddie muttered, his expression had dropped completely and Ben felt bad for his friend, he placed a warm hand on his arm. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“It’s okay.”

“I thought- I figured that if no one saw then I wouldn’t have to say anything and I just could pretend nothing happened.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Ben said. “It’s not like I’m gonna tell, not if you don’t want me to.”

“You won’t?”

Ben shook his head, he wasn’t the best at keeping secrets so he could understand Eddie’s apprehension but he would make an inhuman effort not to spill this particular secret, it wasn’t his place.

Eddie sighed, relieved.

“I have to ask though, why won’t don’t you want to tell him?”

“I think you know why.”

“I don’t, not really. You know I’m not the most observant person.”

Eddie chuckled lightly before his expression turned serious again. “I’m not the mystery guy Richie wants.”

“According to who?”

“Himself. You heard him the day after the party when he thought Bev was suggesting that I was the guy. I don’t want to tell him it was me only for him to be disappointed.”

“I doubt he would be disappointed. Richie is always talking about how much he wants to kiss you.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “That’s just Richie being Richie. And knowing him he would only play it off as a joke or something.”

“And that’s not what the kiss was to you, is it?”

Eddie sighed, shaking his head without looking at Ben.

“I still think you should tell him.”

“I- What if he gets mad at me?”

“Look, Eddie, I won’t claim to know what goes on inside Richie Tozier’s head but I think that if he found out it was you who he kissed the only thing that would make him angry is the fact that he doesn’t remember it.”

Eddie snorted, but Ben was happy to see that some of the tension had left his shoulders and his expression was more relaxed. He even seemed to be considering it.

“I’ll think about it.” He said, just as the girl behind the counter called Ben’s name, his drink ready.

“You do that. And then you tell me all about it.” Ben said, winking at Eddie as they made their way back to the table.

Eddie didn’t lie to Ben, he did think about it but the more he did, the less he wanted to tell Richie. The thought alone made him feel terrified and whenever the chance presented itself when it was just the two of them, he would chicken out. The worst part was that he wanted to tell him, he was tired of sitting on this big ass secret (not just the kiss but the entire reason why it was such a big deal to him in the first place) and part of him wondered if Ben’s words had some truth to it. The other part was still convinced that Richie would be disappointed to find out Eddie was the mystery guy or in the worst case scenario, angry about it and that part was the one who usually won but today Eddie refused to let it win again. Today he would tell Richie and deal with the consequences or at least that’s what he had been telling himself for the past half an hour.

“Eds, you might want to open up a window, there’s steam coming out of your head.” Richie said, nudging Eddie’s leg with his foot. They were supposed to be doing homework in Eddie’s house, but Eddie hadn’t been able to focus on anything other than the fact that it was just the two of them in his room. “What’s got you so worked up?”

Eddie opened his mouth, ready to spew out some lie about just being a little distracted or homework being harder than usual but what came out was, “Do you remember your mystery guy?”

Richie frowned, clearly not expecting that to be brought up. They had banned the subject after two weeks of Richie talking about just that and whenever he tried to bring it up he would get several ‘Beep beep Richie’ in response and one or two objects were thrown at him. “Of course I do. I mean, I wish I could remember him but that bit it’s still a big chunk of nothing. Why?”

“I lied to you.”

“Eds, you’re giving me fucking whiplash with this random bit of information.”

“It’s not random, I- I lied to you about your mystery guy. I know who he is.”

Richie’s eyes widened comically and he gaped at Eddie like a fish. “You what?”

“I know who he is, I was with you the entire night, Bev was right.”

“But why- why didn’t you tell me?” Richie asked, genuinely confused. “Do you hate him? Do I hate him? Is he an asshole or something?”

Eddie shook his head, he refused to look at Richie, focusing on a loose thread on his comforter.

“Who is he?”

Eddie gulped, his throat felt dry and the words weighted heavily on his mouth, but he forced himself to speak, even if it was with a small, wavery voice. “Me.”

“Huh?”

“It’s me. The mystery guy. The one you made out with.” Eddie said, finally locking eyes with Richie. “It’s me.”

If Richie had been gaping before it was nothing compared to what he was doing now. He opened and closed his mouth repeatedly but no words came out, other than that his expression was unreadable and it made worry pool on Eddie’s stomach. That worry turned into dread when Richie burst out laughing.

“Nice one, Eds. You nearly got me there.” Richie said, laughing.

“What?”

“Who put you up to this? Was it Bev?”

“No one put me up to this, Richie what are you talking about?”

“You came up with this on your own then?”

Eddie groaned. “Fuck you, Richie, this isn’t a joke!” He said, angry and hurt, he had expected Richie’s mocking tone but not how it would make him feel.

“Oh my God, you’re fucking serious.”

“Yes you asshole, because unlike you not everything is a joke to me.”

“Woah woah Eds. This isn’t- it’s not a joke. I just thought- Forgive me for not buying the idea that I kissed you.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Because you would never do it? Because the idea is just so ridiculous?”

“Yes! I mean, no! It is ridiculous but only because never in my wildest dreams I would’ve thought I would ever get to kiss you!”

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline, “Oh.”

Richie snorted, his lips curling into a smile, “Yeah, oh.”

“So you’re not- disappointed?”

“Disappointed? Disappointed?!”

“Yeah, you know that it was me.” Eddie shrugged. “When Bev suggested it the other day, you just brushed it off.”

“Well, yeah because I didn’t even consider the idea that it could be you! Because good things like making out with Eddie Kaspbrak don’t happen to idiots like Richie Tozier.”

Eddie snorted. “Well, it did.”

“Apparently,” Richie said, then he frowned. “Shit, I can’t believe my most awaited dream came true and I can’t even remember it.”

“Most awaited dream?”

“Eds I’ve been dreaming about kissing you since we were in middle school.”

Eddie smiled, pleased with how everything was turning out. “You have, huh?”

“I’m not even embarrassed to say, that yes, I have. And now that I finally did I just forgot about it! Of course, that would happen to me.”

“Well,” Eddie said, smirking slightly at Richie. “You can always do it again.”

Richie grinned back at Eddie in an almost predatory way. “Are you asking me to kiss you, Eddie?”

Eddie pursed his lips in thought. “I’m offering to help you remember.”

“Well, I accept your help. Richie said and Eddie had the chance to smile at him before Richie leaned down and captured his lips in a sweet kiss.

The details of their first kiss were blurry in Eddie’s mind but the press of Richie’s mouth against his brought everything he felt that night back to the surface and he grabbed Richie’s face in his hand and pressed himself harder against him. They broke apart and Eddie was met with Richie’s dumb grin and the most adoring eyes staring back at him.

“Anything?” Eddie asked, moving his hands so that they rested on Richie’s chest.

“I think it’s coming back you know, but I might need a little more help to remember completely.” Richie said, failing to keep the smile off his face.

Eddie rolled his eyes, but leaned in, closer to Richie. “Always happy to help."

#reddie #reddielibrary #writing team #prompt fill #Monse #jem-carstairs-is-perfection

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artificialqueens · 5 years

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Sharp Nails And A Sharper Tongue (Biadore) - Albatross

AN: An idle comment leads Adore to becoming a regular at Alaska’s favorite salon and very quickly Adore comes to understand exactly Alaska returns to the same technician every month.

So I know I talk a lot about what I’m planning with future works and as of late it seems (to me) like what I post doesn’t always match what I announced previously…A lot of that quite honestly has to do with various stressors from my job sapping away my motivation to work on certain stories. I have a lot of ideas that I want to create (some old, some new) but right now I’m struggling with having very little motivation to do so. And it seems like I create a fair amount of extra stress for myself by trying to stick to a writing schedule…So I’m gonna try something a little different; even though I want to work on some of my older ideas first since they’d been on my to-do list for awhile, I think I’m just gonna follow where my inspiration takes me at the moment. So the Trixya date is going to take a bit more time to be posted but I am starting to work on it and as for the next piece I’ll be actively working on, I’m pretty sure its gonna be the magical girl AU (which will have chapters dedicated to Ravjila, Shalaska, Witney, probably Biadore, and definitely hints of Dela x Jinkx but maybe not a whole chapter unless I can come up with more ideas for them). Rajalaskam is also one that I’m thinking of picking up again in the very near future because I have almost everything mapped out just not written down yet. I’m hoping that writing that one goes quickly since I’ve spent so much time prepping the plot points already. Thanks to everyone being so patient and supportive while I figure things out!

It started with a simple lazy comment, “I should get my nails done.”

Adore was just coming off her buzz from smoking earlier that afternoon and chanced a look down at said nails. There was embarrassingly little left to be seen of the previous polish she used; just a few patches of a hideous pastel green that had been all that she could find the last time she felt the urge to paint them. It was just an idle thought, one she wasn’t even sure why she vocalized but it instantly sparked the interest of her last remaining companion from that day’s smoke session.

Most everyone else had left over an hour ago at this point, save for Alaska. Part of their routine was that once they were alone, one of them would supply an extra joint of whatever new strain caught their eye that week. Then they’d enjoy the blunt in peace, chatting the day away while they decided on additional plans for that night, mostly revolving around food options. It was a good routine since they hardly got a chance to spend one-on-one time anymore.

But that one single sentence brought Alaska back to life and immediately she was recommending the salon where she gets her own nails done at. Adore hadn’t really planned to actually move forward with her idea but seeing the sudden burst of enthusiasm on her friend’s face was slowly convincing her…and if she didn’t go at least once Alaska probably would give her no rest until she finally made an appointment…or if Adore dared to tell that she wasn’t being entirely serious in her statement that could produce one of Alaska’s trademark pouts. It was fine when said pout was directed at another person but Alaska had no problem turning it on Adore if there was something she wanted the younger woman to do with or for her.

The blonde was an expert at getting her way after all. It usually meant a good time for everyone involved but she was becoming just a little too skilled with the emotional manipulation for Adore’s liking…especially since it often times meant that she was to be forced out of lazy afternoon or a chance to sleep in as of late. Alaska liked to be active and loved to drag her friends along for the ride, no matter how much they just wanted to veg out on the couch and watch bad TV.

Pushing those thoughts out of her head, Adore refocused herself on Alaska’s fervent reviews of all of the nail technicians at her salon of choice. Though she listed each one’s areas of strengths and drawbacks, Adore couldn’t help but noticed she had yet to mention one particular worker she was fond of.

“What about the one that does your nails?” she asked with her brow arching ever so slightly.

“Bianca?” Alaska questioned in shock. “Well, yeah, she’s there, too. But…”

“‘But?’” Adore inquired, now fully intrigued by Alaska’s reluctance to recommend her favorite technician.

“She’s good, great even. God, she’s probably one of the best I’ve ever had-”

Again Adore repeated, “But?”

“But she’s not always the most…friendly. Like after awhile when she starts talking, she’s really funny but she can also be just…really fucking rude sometimes,” the blonde stated in entirely blunt manner.

Alaska’s honest review had certainly piqued Adore’s curiosity and immediately she was prodding her friend for more information. Nervously scratching the back of her head, Alaska admitted, “It took a couple months before she was okay with me. She never really said much, always just quiet and professional but once she’s comfortable with you and starts talking back…her comments can get really pointed and harsh. A lot of it is just directed at random things at the salon but sometimes…she does talk about other people.”

It was no surprise to Adore’s mind that Alaska would be uncomfortable if the topic flipped to real people, possibly even ones she knows. She never really was one to want to listen to gossip. Adore however, loved to hear it all, even if she never repeated it…at least while sober. Drunk or tipsy Adore could not always be trusted with such information. But at a salon there was little chance of getting a drink any stronger than cheap coffee.

Continuing on, Alaska twiddled with a lock of her hair as she admitted, “She might not be the best choice for your first time there…Maybe start with Alyssa or Latrice, they love to talk! You’d really like them.”

Unconvinced, Adore plastered a teasing smirk on her lips and assured her friend, “I think I can handle Bianca if you can. The appointment’s only what? Like half an hour? I’ll be fine.”

******

Approximately 40 minutes after her arrival at the shop, Adore was forced to admit to herself that she was not fine…far from it. Alaska’s warnings had been right on the money but the brunette felt like she still hadn’t been adequately prepared for what Bianca was actually like. Quiet for the most part, yes. However, Alaska conveniently seemed to forget to mention the constant look of silent judging that had begun from practically the moment she first saw Adore.

The technician seemed to be expecting someone older, more put together as Adore was led to Bianca’s station by the receptionist. The look on Bianca’s face did nothing to hide her near disappointment with her new client. She almost looked completely fed up or exasperated by the young millennial that had specifically asked for her. And then the second she got a look at Adore’s nails?

The young brunette could have sworn she heard the older woman muttering a short prayer. Something along the lines of ‘Lord, give me patience.’

Adore wasn’t sure at the time what issue Bianca could have had with her nails. She removed the old polish after all. Wasn’t that what she was supposed to do?

It was only after confiding in Alaska about the judgemental stare that she was provided some insight. The blonde’s eyes darted to Adore’s newly manicured nails and instantly a knowing smirk found its way to her lips. In a plain, sympathetic voice she informed the younger woman, “It’s because you bite your nails. Bianca hates that.”

But all that knowledge would be revealed much later. For now Adore was shifting uncomfortably in her seat, something Bianca certainly did not appreciate. The young woman felt torn between constantly apologizing and wanting to yell at the technician for making her feel so inadequate. In the end she was able to relieve some of the stress by biting her lip as she focused on Bianca’s work.

It was fascinating, she had to admit. Alaska hadn’t been joking when she said Bianca was one of the best and not just within the shop. Her movements were so precise, so well-practiced. There wasn’t a mistake to be seen and of course, she was much faster than Adore expected someone so concerned with quality to be. She made it all look so effortless though Adore could easily recognize how much care and detail went into the finished result.

Bianca’s behavior aside, she loved the work the technician had put in and she had to confess; her nails never looked better. Bianca had more than earned Alaska’s praise and the hefty tip Adore was intending to leave. Once the final coat of paint was dried Adore couldn’t help but to grin down at her nails. She absolutely loved what she saw, from the filed tips right to the glossy shade of violet she chose. Turning her eyes up to the technician as she began to clean up, Adore shot off a bright smile and murmured a sincere, “Thanks!”

Bianca looked stunned for about half a second, blinking in something almost akin to confusion before quickly regaining her composure. She returned a small grin of her own and muttered, “Anytime,” before swiftly returning to preparing her station for the next client.

Something about the behavior warmed Adore’s heart and she couldn’t help but think that maybe Bianca wasn’t as much of a hard-ass as she first thought. But reality soon set in and she knew she shouldn’t dawdle any longer than necessary unless she truly wanted to annoy Bianca again. So she simply left her tip at the corner of Bianca’s table and took her leave to the receptionist’s desk to pay for the rest of the service.

That night as she showed off her newly painted nails to Alaska, the blonde asked her a surprising question; one she hadn’t really considered yet that day.

“You gonna go back?”

“Yeah,” she mused with a lazy grin as she admired her nails, “I think I will.”

*******

About a month passed between appointments until the gaps between the edge of the polish and Adore’s nail beds were quite visible. Hardly a second thought ran through her mind as she called the salon to book her next visit. After answering the usual questions of ‘Have you been here before?’, 'What day and time were you thinking of coming in?’, and 'What are you looking to get done?’, the receiptist asked one final question that left Adore’s heart racing just a bit too much for her taste; “Who would you like to see?”

There was a slight pause before Adore affirmed, “Bianca.”

Less than a minute later she was on the books for an appointment on Thursday afternoon with the salon’s premier temperamental technician. The day of she was left anxiously fiddling with her hair in the waiting area until the receptionist was ready to guide her back to the work stations. She hadn’t really expected Bianca to remember her, not when she was still just a newcomer and Bianca already had so many other clients, but the look of mild surprise once she saw Adore did please her more than she would have suspected. There was just a tinge of relief in her voice as she noted in a somewhat abrupt manner, “You’re back.”

“You do good work,” Adore replied politely as she took her seat.

The small proud smile Bianca wore confirmed that that was probably the best answer Adore could have given. The technician nodded her head as thanks and instructed the young brunette to pick out her next shade. Settling on a deep red, Adore handed over the bottle of polish and the two quickly fell back into their new routine. This time around Adore felt more at ease with Bianca, enough that her fidgeting had died down considerably. She didn’t quite dare to try to make small talk but the silence was still comfortable enough for her. Watching Bianca work was its own form of entertainment and if the technician didn’t feel comfortable speaking just yet she wouldn’t force it.

However by the next appointment Adore’s curiosity couldn’t be withheld any longer and she made the first of a few cautious inquiries to the older woman. She began with a simple, “How long have you been doing this?”

“Eight years next month,” came the blunt reply.

That was probably the most they had spoken thus far but it wouldn’t be the last.

With every new visit Adore would ask one more question than she had during her previous appointment. Each time Bianca would answer with an unexpected amount of patience but after Adore had worked her way up to five inquires in one day, the technician finally relented and began asking questions of her own as well.

After only two more visits, they left the standard small talk aside and began discussing things of actual interest to them. By this time Adore could see that Alaska’s assessment of Bianca was right on the money; she could be quite sarcastic, pretty much to the point of being rude but it was in a manner that was usually quite hilarious. Her deadpan or off-color comments typically left Adore cracking up until the older woman was silently glaring at her so she’d sit still. It was too bad that the glares eventually stopped working on the brunette all together. After awhile she would shoot back a baiting smirk almost as if she was daring the older woman with the old classic of 'Make me.’

More than once Bianca would arch her brow at the challenge but within seconds Adore would give in and allow Bianca to continue her work uninterrupted. She had to admit, she liked the fact that Bianca wasn’t inclined to go easy on her; if Adore was acting like a brat, Bianca had no problem letting her know. She would however, make it a point to follow up her teasing with a small smile just to reassure the young woman that she was only joking.

Over time Adore found herself admitting that she’d never thought she’d like Bianca as much as she did. Her now scheduled monthly visits soon became the highlight of her week, especially since the technician had actually taken to coming out to get her from the waiting room in person. It was quite a shock the first time it happened but Adore didn’t dare to comment on it, either to Bianca nor even to Alaska. In all the time she had been coming to the salon, she never saw any of the technicians escorting their clients to their work station; it was always the receptionist that would lead them there. But then again Bianca always did seem to be one to march to the beat of her own drum, as evidenced by the fact that she never really seemed inclined to act overly friendly like the other employees of the shop. She was talented and she knew it. She had more than enough returning customers that the managers of shop seemed content to simply let her do as she pleased so long as she continued to turn them a profit.

But still that extra effort made Adore feel special and even sharing it with Alaska would almost taint that so for now she left as her own little secret. Try as she might though, she often couldn’t stop herself from gushing over how her latest appointment went. For her part the older blonde listened patiently with an amused smile and a knowing glint in her eyes. The most she would usually say on the matter was a pleased, “I’m glad you like her.”

And like her, Adore certainly did. She wouldn’t trade her appointments for anything.

Things continued on this way until about midway through one of their usual chats Bianca suddenly asked, “What made you decide to come here in the first place?”

Of course even after knowing her for only a few months now, Adore knew she meant 'Why did you pick me?’

A considering smile grew across her lips as she recalled the smoke session and careless comment that led to her becoming a regular at the salon until she finally answered with a simple statement of, “You came highly recommended.”

Bianca let out a scoff of disbelief as she continued her work and waited silently until Adore was willing to provide further elaboration. In true Adore fashion, her secretiveness only lasted about 40 seconds before she followed up with, “Seriously though, you did come recommended…kind of. Alaska always raves your work whenever she-”

“Alaska?” Bianca interrupted in confusion. It wasn’t often that she could remember her client’s names but she felt certain a unique one like that would have stuck out more.

“Tall?” Adore described, “Really toned but kinda clumsy sometimes? Smiles and laughs a lot and…um, long blonde-”

“Wait…” Bianca mused as she paused in her work for a second. The name and description was starting to ring a bell until finally a hazy image began to form in her mind. A brief look of exasperation and defeat passed across the technician’s face as she questioned, “Was she the one that always had me gluing random shit to her nails?”

“That’s her!” the brunette confirmed with a proud smile.

“Oh, my god!” Bianca muttered with an eye roll. “I can’t tell you how relieved I was when she finally stopped asking for that bullshit…I ran out ideas one time and just used leftovers from the other kits we had lying around…And she still loved it!”

“No accounting for taste,” Adore agreed with an affectionate smile despite the light jab at her friend.

Grumbling, Bianca added in as she resumed her work, “I don’t know how she managed to do anything with all that shit hanging off her nails. I’ve seen her once or twice with her hair tangled in everything before she was even out the door! My god, I don’t even want to imagine what those nails would feel like running across your skin.”

A shiver passed through the technician as she remembered all of the times her clients had accidentally scratched her as she worked on their manicures even when they weren’t stiletto-sized like Alaska’s. It wasn’t usually a pleasant experience but still one that happened all too frequently with her job. Just another occupational hazard.

“Yeah,” Adore drawled out with a reminiscent grin as all of Alaska’s mishaps with her nails played on a loop in her mind. Remembering a past conversation with Alaska’s girlfriend, she threw in a careless comment of “Well, lucky for her, she’s a bit of a pillow princess in bed…But at least she’s up to try pretty much anything so long as it won’t mess her nails though.”

There was immediate pause on Bianca’s part as the words fell from Adore’s lips. Her fingers wrapped around Adore’s hand were trembling noticeably for a few seconds until Bianca was able to get a hold of herself. Casting her eyes back to her work, she let out a near emotionless utterance of “Oh.”

Following that comment a clear wave of tension filled the room and neither woman dared to speak much for the remainder of the appointment. Not that Adore didn’t try but after a few attempts to restart the conversation were met with blunt and even borderline harsh responses, she soon gave up and felt a growing cloud of misery hanging over her. She wasn’t sure what caused the sudden change in Bianca’s behavior nor how she should apologize for it so she just kept quiet. It was the first time in months that they had spent more than ten minutes without exchanging some kind of conversation with one another.

In an unceremoniously abrupt ending, Bianca finished her work and instantly began cleaning her station for the next customer. Over the last few visits she had made it a point to wait until Adore had left so they they might talk for a few additional minutes but today she seemed to have no interest in encouraging the brunette to stay any longer than necessary. The actions hurt Adore more than she thought it should have but she couldn’t bring herself to try and speak to Bianca again, apart from thanking her for another job well done.

As usual she left her tip at the corner of Bianca’s station and slunk out to the front of the shop to pay for the remainder of the service. When asked if she wanted to set up her next appointment awhile, she faltered for just a moment before ultimately deciding to schedule ahead as she would normally. Perhaps by her next visit Bianca would be back to her usual self and this whole thing would blow over like nothing had ever happened…

*******

For the first time since Adore had begun visiting the shop, she hadn’t gossiped about her appointment with Alaska once she got home. She didn’t want to dwell on the awkward end to her visit and Alaska seemed to sense that something had not gone quite right between Adore and her technician. Though the brunette could tell Alaska wanted to try to help, Adore just wasn’t sure how to even explain what had happened or why it left her feeling so miserable. But to her gratitude, Alaska didn’t push the subject, she simply reassured Adore that if she wanted to vent, she’d be there to listen.

Adore thanked her as she always would have but deep down she knew she had no intention of discussing the visit’s events with anyone…at least not until Alaska came back from her latest appointment with a worried look on her face. When she showed up unexpectedly at Adore’s apartment, it was easy to see that she was upset by how her appointment had progressed but mostly she was just incredibly confused by everything. Adore had known well ahead of time about Alaska’s upcoming visit and debated giving her some kind of warning but ultimately she had decided against it. Part of her reasoned that Bianca was a professional and whatever issue was happening between the two of them wouldn’t carry over to another client…seems she was quite mistaken with that thought.

Completely ignoring all sense of tact and subtlety, Alaska asked point blank what had happened between the pair the last time they saw each other. Adore was somewhat coy with her answer, still not fully understanding why there was a sudden 180 to Bianca’s behavior but she still remained convinced that whatever it was had pretty much been entirely her fault…and no trace of her wanted to admit that to Alaska nor did she want to repeat the comment she had made that had probably caused this whole mess. All the same she still felt awful that her stupid mistake was now affecting Bianca and Alaska’s working relationship.

Very cautiously, Adore inquired if Bianca had said anything directly to Alaska that might provide some kind of insight as to why she suddenly became so irritated with both of them rather than just Adore. To her disappointment, Alaska only gave a distressed reply of “No, she…she just seemed angry and cold and quiet the whole time…she hasn’t been like that with me for years. I don’t what changed or why.”

Whatever it was, Adore knew she had to apologize, at least for Alaska’s sake. If she wanted to, she could always find another technician or even another shop for her manicure but Alaska loved that salon and their employees far more than Adore did. The very last thing the brunette wanted to do was make Alaska’s presence in the shop awkward or uncomfortable because she had done something careless that offended one of the technicians.

Almost immediately after Alaska left her apartment to mull over her troubling visit, Adore called the salon to reschedule her appointment. It had barely been two weeks since she was last there but she needed some excuse to see Bianca and speak with her. The fact that she was a regular did help the rescheduling process. Normally the receptionist probably would have been less accommodating but upon seeing the familiar name pop up, she was quite willing to move the appointment to the next available time slot. Granted it was much earlier in the day than Adore usually liked to wake up but if she could fix things for Alaska and maybe even herself, it’d be more than worth it.

********

Only three days later, Adore arrived at the shop for one of the very first appointments of the day. As she waited for her turn she held a small hope that Bianca would come out to greet her like she’d done in the past but unfortunately it was the receptionist that led her to Bianca’s station. Adore tried to not let her expression show just how unhappy she was at the small gesture, or rather lack of on Bianca’s part, and quietly took her seat across from the technician.

Instead of their usual warm exchange of greetings, Bianca coldly asked her to pick her shade from the selection of polish. It hardly mattered to Adore what color she’d wear for the next month so merely chose whichever caught her eye first. Wordlessly, Bianca began her work and the only sound filling the room for the longest time was the light pop music playing across the speakers and the dull chatter from other technicians as they waited for their own clients to arrive.

Despite how much she ached inside to apologize, Adore just couldn’t bring herself to vocalize any actual words. It all felt so clumsy and insincere whenever she tried to think of a segue into the discussion she longed to start. She wished she had prepared herself more for this because now it felt like she had just made everything worse somehow. She was all but biting her lip as she searched her mind for something, just anything to say.

Every so often Bianca’s eyes would drift from her work and up to meet Adore’s own worried ones. The contact would barely last a second but there was a growing look of guilt on Bianca’s face with each new glance. A near silent sigh escaped her, as she mentioned in defeat, “You stopped biting your nails.”

Absently Adore nodded her head, thankful that some kind of conversation had begun, and confirmed in a small voice, “Yeah…Alaska said that you hated when people do that.”

At once Bianca’s hardened expression returned and very clearly she was biting the interior of her lip to keep herself from spitting out some scathing remark. She quickly huddled in on herself in a mock attempt at looking as though she were concentrating on her task but it was obvious that the last place she wanted to be right now was across from Adore.

The brunette’s throat constricted as she realized almost immediately that even mentioning Alaska’s name was probably one of the worst things she could have done at that point. She had to actively fight against her instincts of pulling back her hand and just ending the appointment then and there. A familiar burning sensation was beginning to prick at the corner of her eyes but she forced herself to stay put. She needed to do this, she reasserted to herself. If she chickened out now, she’d probably never be able to face Bianca again…and even if she failed, at least she would know she tried…

Her voice came out weak and hesitant in a manner almost unknown to her as she called out, “Um…hey…Bianca?”

With a stony expression, Bianca stopped her work and looked up at the young woman with something just short of a glare in her eyes. Adore’s tongue felt heavy and dry as she pushed herself to apologize, “Listen, I’m really sorry for what I said last time…That had really crossed a line…”

Bianca let out a sarcastic noise of agreement and returned to finish her job but immediately her hands paused once again as she heard Adore’s shameful confession of, “I was trying to be funny and repeated what her girlfriend told me but-”

“Girlfriend?” she interrupted in an abrupt and unexpected state of confusion. Her brows furrowed together as she said reproachfully, “I thought you were her-”

“What? No!” Adore squeaked out as her eyes grew wide and shocked in response to Bianca’s assumptions. She could feel her face beginning to heat up even as she declared firmly, “We’re just friends, we-you!”

A moment of pure clarity finally struck Adore and even more so she felt her cheeks beginning to burn. A smile that seemed caught somewhere between ecstatic and relieved stretched across her lips as she almost shouted in realization, “That’s why you were acting so bitchy, wasn’t it? You were-”

For the first time Adore could recall, a blush rose to Bianca’s cheeks as she hastily denied, “No, I wasn’t.”

Entirely unconvinced, Adore allowed herself to be consumed by a sense of overwhelming joy as she argued excitedly with the technician, “You were! You were totally jealous!”

“Fuck off, I was not,” Bianca rebutted defensively as all sense of professionalism and decorum seemed to be thrown out the window. She couldn’t even pretend that she could look Adore in the eye at the moment and instead ordered her client, “Shut up and let me finish your nails.”

Settling down somewhat, Adore didn’t even try to hide the victorious smirk that had overtaken her face as she remarked with sense of pride and finality, “You were jealous.”

Bianca spent the remainder of the appointment annoyed and practically grumbling as she tried to will away the unwanted color that had spread across her cheeks. Adore herself sat smug but thankfully silent as Bianca sped through the remainder of her work as though her life depended on it. Every time Bianca dared to look up, she found Adore already watching her with a disgustingly satisfied and overly confident glint in her eyes.

Once her client’s nails were finally dried, Bianca immediately recused herself to the employee break room. The other technicians’ eyes wandered closely after her but none dared to actually follow her beyond the doorway. Adore for one was far from offended, she actually found it somewhat adorable that a woman who typically seemed so composed and in control of herself had to rush off in embarrassment while her face cooled down. There was something charmingly vulnerable about the behavior, particularly now that she finally understood why Bianca had acted so moodily during Adore and Alaska’s last visits.

Snatching up one of Bianca’s pens and business cards from her station, Adore wrote a short note on the back of the card and left it laying in a painfully obvious position on top of her tip. She still wore a smirk as she paid for the service at the front desk and scheduled her next appointment for the following month. As much as she wanted to proudly shout it from the rooftop she bit back any vocalization indicating that she was sure she’d be seeing the technician again much sooner than that.

Almost as if to prove her point, nearly the second she entered her car, she felt her phone vibrating with a new alert. The message was blank and originated from a number not yet saved in her phone but Adore had little doubt as to who just contacted her. A wide grin that she couldn’t even try to contain broke out across her lips as she typed back, 'Hey, B.’

A mere 5 seconds passed before a second alert popped up on her screen, 'You said to text to you.’

Adore rolled her eyes as she quickly replied, 'Yeah, but it looks like you forgot the text part in that first message.’

'Cocky little brat,’ swiftly populated in the newest text bubble but only a second after Adore began chuckling at the light jab, a fourth message came through; one that erased any sort of smart-ass remark she was inclined to type back, 'My shift ends at 6…Want to get something to eat after that?’

Adore’s confirmation was sent back almost immediately and as she waited for further details from the temperamental technician, Adore found herself thinking that more than any other appointment she had with Bianca in the past; this upcoming one was undoubtedly the one she was looking forward to the most.

#rpdr fanfiction #albatross #biadore #bianca del rio #adore delano #alaska thunderfuck #fluff #nail salon au #jealousy #tw drugs #tw weed #concrit welcome #submission #lesbian au

85 notes · View notes

btsqualityy · 5 years

Text

Jungles / 7

Pairing: Jungkook & OC

Summary & Warnings: Aspect is one of the hottest, up-and-coming bands in the world, headed up by it’s maknae and lead singer Jeon Jungkook. Aspect is on the rise but when one of it’s members abruptly quits, they are left without a bassist. When they find Leilani Kang, they’re blown away by her talent and she joins the band. However, no one is prepared for the places that a mixture of money, sex, drugs, and super stardom can take people. / Will contain sexual content, drug usage, and adult content. Reader’s discretion is advised.

Disclaimer: Please keep in mind that the way in which the members of BTS are depicted in this story, especially Jungkook, has no correlation to them in real life. It is literally just a story.

Author’s Note for this chapter: I do list some song titles that are actual songs. I’m using them in name only. Also, this is the longest chapter that I’ve posted so far but please read through to the end if you can. You won’t regret it!

POV for this chapter: Leilani. Make sure to send me your thoughts after reading. Also, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

I leaned back in my chair, bringing my hand up to my mouth to chew on my nails as my gaze remained on the president of the label. After that night that I offered to help Jungkook write some stuff for the album, we ended up writing five songs together. In the four weeks since then, he and I have actually been getting alone somewhat...well. He’s can actually be pretty decent when he wants to be; don’t get me wrong though, he’s still a dickhead.

Once Jungkook and I finished the songs, we managed to show them to the group, record them, and finish compiling the album. Since we as a group were satisfied with the tracks, it was time for Bang Si-hyuk to hear them.

To say that I was nervous would be a complete understatement. I mean, I’m the new person in the band and what if Bang thought that I messed up the flow of the group? Or that I wasn’t good enough to add anything to them, in a musical sense?

Jimin, who was sitting to the left of me, must’ve noticed the look on my face because he grabbed my left hand, the one that wasn’t in my mouth, and intertwined our fingers. I glanced over at him and gave him a small tight lipped smile. Suddenly, the music stopped playing and I looked back at Bang, who had just pressed stop on the stereo in the room. He leaned back in his chair, bringing his hand up to stroke thoughtfully at his chin.

“So, what do you think?” Hobi wondered hesitantly and Bang looked at him before a smile took over his features.

“I think you guys have another number 1 album on your hands,” he announced and we all let out audible breaths of air as we started to celebrate. “Alright, alright, calm down you all,” he hummed and we all quieted down. “So, you guys know that I make it a point to never intrude on inner group politics, especially when it comes to the removal or addition of new members.”

Oh god, here it comes. He’s probably gonna tell them what a mistake it was to add me to the group. I don’t know made me think I could do this in the first place.

“But you guys made the best decision ever when you decided to add Leilani here to the group,” he finished, and my eyes widened.

“Really?” I questioned. “You think so?”

“Absolutely,” he nodded, smiling widely now. “Those riffs of yours, mixed with JK’s vocals,” he sighed dreamily. “Plus, I know that Yoongi composed most of the songs but a little birdie told me that you and JK also composed some songs.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook confirmed. “Frustrated, Focus, Could’ve been, Pillowtalk and Truth.”

“Hm, interesting,” he simpered. “Well, we can talk definite release dates another time but I do want us to get this out as soon as we possibly can. Namjoon, me and you will need to meet along with the board to discuss single selection.”

“Uh actually,” Jungkook spoke up and Bang looked over at him. “We were kind of discussing this already and we think the single should be Pillowtalk.”

“Pillowtalk?” Bang repeated. He thought for a minute before looking over at Namjoon. “Namjoon, what do you think?”

“I agree,” Namjoon answered. “It’s definitely different from the last album but not too different that it’ll alienate long time fans. Plus, we all love it.”

“Hm, I do too,” he admitted, making me grin. “Alright, Pillowtalk will be the single as long as the board agrees after listening to the album.” He then stood up and we all did the same, bowing to him and exchanging goodbyes before he walked out of the room.

“Fuck, we did it!” Jungkook yelled and we all erupted into cheers. I gave a tight hug to Jimin and also a hug to Jin, Hobi, and Namjoon. When I got to Jungkook, he smirked cheekily at me.

“I guess we don’t make such a bad team after all, huh Leilani?” He commented, holding his arms out for a hug. To everyone’s surprise, including Jungkook’s I think, I wrapped my arms around his neck as I molded my body to his. Hesitantly, I felt his arms wrap around my waist and squeeze me lightly.

“I guess not,” I agreed before pulling away from him.

“Hey, why don’t we go out tonight and celebrate?” Hobi suggested, making us all look over at him. “I feel like dancing.”

“I’m all for that,” Jimin agreed as he did a little dance where he was standing.

“Oh, we should call Yoongi hyung too,” Namjoon added. The guys all started to make the plans as Jungkook looked over at me with that smirk on his face.

“You down?” He wondered, licking his lips afterwards. I bit my lip at the sight before nodding my head.

“Hell yeah.”

...........................

I have no idea how the fuck it happened, especially since we didn’t chose a club to go to until 30 minutes before we got there. However, when we stepped foot inside of the Avalon, people immediately began to flock to us. We were whisked away to the VIP section, where we had a large booth to ourselves and copious amounts of booze.

“Wow,” I breathed as I watched Jin pour me a drink.

“Crazy right?” He asked and I nodded slowly. He finished pouring my drink and then handed it to me, smiling lightly. “You’ll get used to it eventually,” he promised.

“Thanks,” I smiled before taking slow sips from the glass. Jimin and Hobi came back to our section, both of them starting to sweat lightly from dancing.

“Did the shots we ordered get here yet?” Hobi asked.

“You two felt the need to order shots? On top of all this alcohol that we have here?” Yoongi questioned.

“Hyung, there’s no such thing as too much alcohol,” Jimin giggled as he flung himself down inside of the booth next to Yoongi, throwing his arm around his shoulder.

“Speak for yourself,” Yoongi grumbled as he shrugged Jimin’s arm off of him. “I’ll still never understand how someone so small can drink so much and not be super fucked up.”

“It’s called skills hyung,” Jimin gushed.

“Oh, here they are!” Hobi shrieked, making me, Jin, and Namjoon cringe. A waitress carried a tray full of different colored shots over and set them on our table and Jungkook handed her a $50 bill as a tip.

“Baller, shot caller huh?” I teased, and Jungkook smirked.

“Eh, I like to help out,” he shrugged. We all grabbed a shot and after a sniff of it, I realized it was tequila. We all stood up and held our glasses together.

“A toast to us, for making a bad ass team,” Jungkook boasted. We all cheered in agreement and clinked our glasses together. I brought mines to my lips, tilting my head back and swallowing it as quickly as I could.

“Come on Lani, let’s go dance!” Jimin begged, grabbing my wrist and pulling on my arm lightly.

“Alright, alright,” I chuckled. “Gimme a minute.” He nodded and watched as I grabbed another shot from the tray, this time whiskey, and slammed that one back as well. As soon as I set the empty glass back down, Jimin whisked me away and out towards the dance floor with Hobi following close behind us.

Once we got to the middle of the dance floor, Borderline by Ariana Grande was playing and the feel good beat caused me to instantly start moving my hips. Jimin and Hobi sandwiched me, with Jimin in front of me and Hobi behind me. Honestly, with the way that Hobi and Jimin can move those hips of theirs, it’s almost a shame that him and Jimin didn’t become dancers.

We continued to dance through two more songs all together before Earned It by The Weeknd came on. Hobi and Jimin immediately got grabbed by two random girls and even though Jimin didn’t want to leave me on my own, I told him it was ok.

“You sure Lani?” He yelled.

“Go ahead, have fun,” I nodded, shooing him away. He gave me one last smile before letting the girl who was hanging onto his arm lead him away. I was about to make my way back to our private section when I felt a pair of hands settle on my waist.

“What the?” I was about to turn around when I felt his grip tighten on my hips.

“It’s me,” Jungkook whispered in my ear, his breath fanning across my neck.

“What are you doing?” I asked haltingly, slightly relaxing into his chest.

“You danced with Hobi and Jimin and I have to admit, I’m a little jealous,” he teased, making me roll my eyes.

“Seriously Jungkook,” I chuckled.

“I just want a dance,” he said as I felt him shrug his shoulders. “Think you can do that?” He murmured and I could almost feel his lips against the shell of my ear, that’s how close he was. I nodded and he lopped his arms across my stomach, guiding me as he started to rock back and forth.

I leaned my head back, letting it rest in the crook between his neck and shoulder. I think it might’ve been the alcohol but feeling Jungkook’s strong chest against my back sent a shiver through my body. Feeling a little more comfortable, I began to swivel my hips slowly, brushing against the front of his black jeans each time I did so.

“Mm,” he groaned, his arms moving from my stomach as he used one hand to grasp my hip again, while the other settled on my thigh. Hearing his groan in my ear only spurred me on more and I made sure each time I brushed up against it, I’d press my ass against him a little harder.

“Lani,” he whispered and I hummed in response. His hand that was on my thigh started to creep upwards and I had no issues with it, until he cupped me underneath the skirt that I had on. Feeling his hand there, it’s like the cloud broke and I grabbed his arms, pushing them away from me as I moved away from his body at the same time. I turned around and looked at him, the both of us breathing heavily as I tried to process what happened.

I quickly turned around and began to push my way through the crowd of people, wanting to get as far away from Jungkook as possible. Once I made it off of the dance floor, I paced down the hallway to the ladies room and walked inside. I walked over to the sink and grabbed a paper towel, turning on the cold water and dampening it. I then took the wet paper towel and wiped over each of my wrists a few times before setting it on my neck, hoping that it would cool me down a little.

What the fuck is wrong with me? Just because Jungkook and I are somewhat getting along now does not mean that I should fuck him. At least, that’s what the rational part of me says. Every other part though, including my vagina, is currently fucking screaming at me for being an idiot and pushing him away.

A loud slam of the bathroom door makes me open my eyes and when I look into the mirror in front of me, the eyes that I meet are Jungkook’s. I quickly drop the paper towel in the sink and turn around to look at him.

“Jungkook, what are you doing?” I questioned, my breath becoming labored as I watched him lock the door.

“You ran away from me Lelani and I know it’s because you’re trying to be smart,” he began as he stalked over to me. Once he got about an arm’s length away from me, I began to back away until my butt hit the sink behind me. Jungkook continued to come closer until his chest was touching mines and his hands were on the edge of the sink behind me, effectively trapping me in front of him.

“You want to, don’t you?” He asked and I tilted my head back, trying to create some space between us.

“Want to what? I don’t know what you’re talking about Jungkook,” I tried to make up an excuse but he clearly saw right through it because I heard him suck his teeth.

“You do too,” he countered back. ”You want to fuck me, don’t you?” He clarified and I inhaled sharply. His fingers griped my chin and pulled downwards, making me bring my head down and look at him again. “You do, right?”

I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of saying yes but I also knew that if I said no, he’d see right through that. That left me with one option: to shrug childishly which is what I did. He chuckled deeply and brought his hands up, cupping my face.

“Well, I want to fuck you,” he confessed and my eyes widened. “I’d love to fuck you, if you let me.”

Oh, fuck it.

I smashed my lips against his, throwing my arms around his neck as I kissed him passionately. Despite my aggressiveness, he never missed a beat as he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me closer. I don’t know what I expected but he’s a damn good kisser. Like, really good.

I gasped in surprise as he lifted me up and set me on the edge of the sink, all without removing his lips from mine. I parted my legs and he stood in between them, his hands settling on my breasts through the front of my top. He eventually moved from my lips and trailed kisses down the side of my jaw to my neck, where he began to suck harshly.

“Fuck,” I gasped, tilting my head to give him better access. He trailed one hand down and settled it underneath my skirt before pulling away from my neck to look at me.

“Is this ok? You ran from me the last time I did this,” he breathed out, panting slightly. I nodded and set my hands in the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Please,” I said and that’s all it took before he was suckling on my neck again. His hand that was under my skirt moved up and I felt his finger lightly rubbing up and down the outside of my panties.

“Jungkook, please,” I pleaded, wanting him to touch my bare skin and not through a barrier. He chuckled deeply as he pressed his fingers against my clit.

“Greedy,” he tutted but nonetheless, he pulled my panties to the side and slipped his pointer finger inside of me. I shuddered in pleasure, pawing at his back.

“Fuck yes,” I purred as he began to pump his finger in and out.

“I knew it was only a matter of time,” he murmured, licking a stripe up the length of my neck. “They always come running to get fucked eventually.” I immediately opened my eyes and set my hands on his shoulders, pushing him back with all of the strength that I could muster. He stumbled back, barely stopping himself from falling to the ground.

“What the fuck Leilani?” He chided as I hopped down off of the sink and readjusted my clothing.

“Is that what you think I am? Just another piece of ass?” I accused, glaring at him.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he tried to say but I held my hand up, stopping him.

“You did and it’s ok. I’m happy you said it before I actually let you fuck me,” I snapped before pushing past him and walking over to the door, unlocking it before storming out of the bathroom.

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chopper-witch · 5 years

Text

A Weapon of My Own Design: The Junkyard (ch 4)

Characters: Loki x OC (Ashira), random delegates from other places

Warnings: drinking, Th*nos mention (sorry)

Locations: Her ship // my fanfic, mcu version of Naboo

WC: 8,630

Summary: Ashira needs an excuse to be somewhere she shouldn’t. It almost works out.

A.N: I know this is long. Sorry ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ just bear with me please. Started this before midterms and just finished it now. Any mistakes are mine and mine alone. Just stick it out please.

AWOMOD Master

____

“I yipños yinae phonemii, ìchi kiceinà,” Ashira whispers to herself as she descends the stairs after not being able to close her eyes for more than five minutes at a time over the past three hours. Sleep is privilege, not a right.

It’s a stupid saying, a false one. But one repeated to her over and over and over during training, especially during the survival training. You earn sleep, you don’t just get to have it. It was intended to encourage quicker and more efficient completion of certain tasks but when one is running on no sleep and has to climb up a cliffside... mistakes are made.

She unceremoniously plops down on one of the chairs at the table, her head lolling back dramatically. She’s got nothing to do and hours to kill. It is only worse with someone else on board. Less weird things she can do - less bombs she can make because it is no longer just her life she would be risking.

With a groan she rests her head on her hands. There is little for her to do except make something to eat and listen to the news radio channels she’s illegally wired to her ship to see if there are any meetings she can try to sneak in to. Considering Loki won’t be up for another two or three hours it’s worth a shot.

---

“Thank you Vin for that report on vibranium mining in the 2nd sector. Now, onto news regarding more tragedies due to the Mad Titan. J’Oni is reporting.

“Hi, George. The attacks are getting worse and more frequent it appears. Yesterday, the planet Alderaan was halved by Thanos and the Black Order using the Chitauri army and weapons still to be identified, but definitely Aresian made. Tensions in the sector grow high as the desire to attack the planet Ares for giving him the Chitauri army and all of his weaponry increases. Some are even considering attacking the Kree due to their symbiotic alliance with the Aresian government and people. The Interplanetary Council of the Ninth Sector plans to meet on Naboo on the third day of the fifth month at 18:35 standard Q3 time and date. All non-members and non-representatives planning on attending should be adivis-”

“What are you listening to?”

Ashira looks towards the stairs. Loki stands awkwardly at the bottom, hands clasped behind his back. He is awake earlier than she anticipated, only an hour after she got up herself.

“Just some intergalactic news,” she offers.

“What language is that in?”

She pauses a beat too long. She knows of Asgard, it is one of many of the adversarial planets written into her history books and the Conquest War is an entire three week long course required for anyone possibly wanting a titled rank. Allspeak she remembers them having: an equivalent to an implanted translator in the neck. Though that war was a good 5,000 or so years ago and evolution changes all things, so it is possible he does not know Kree.

“Kree,” she replies, “pretty common actually.”

Loki mentally pauses at the mention of Kree. He’s learned a lot about them but opted not to add Kree to his collection of learned languages.

“Huh.” She’s more attentive know, watching out for tells of lying as he moves closer towards the table. Genuine is all she can read, but it does not make her any less nervous.

“Can I sit?” Loki asks. Ashira sighs and swings her legs off the other chair. Loki sits down slowly, watching her watch him. He can tell she is unnerved slightly by the way her eyes are quickly tracing every inch of his body as he moves. Once he is finally sat, Ashira seems to come down off the edge a little, her muscles visibly loosening as if she just reminded herself how bad tension is to keep in the muscles. “So, what’s happening around the galaxy?”

“Nothing exciting unfortunately.” Ashira glances down at her hands. “War, famine, broken peace treaties. Food?”

Loki looks at the bowl in the middle of the table that looks cold at this point after being out for at least one, maybe two hours. “Of course. Kree, your first language?”

“No.” Ashira inhales and looks back up at him, “My second.”

He nods once, swallowing a bit of very cold whatever that thick and cold slop is before speaking again.

“And your first?”

“Only spoken on my home planet and by certain diplomats. It is very, very rare.”

Loki is not particularly fond of her secrecy. He knows she knows more about his home planet than she lets on, given her knowledge of Earth and the brief moment of hesitancy she showed when he didn’t know Kree. But he knows nothing about her; well, he knows little things. He knows she skilled in survival, is an amazing mechanic and engineer, is an excellent con woman and is running away from something - that something likely the reason behind her nightmares.

He knows not why she is so skilled in survival or engineering or why she knows so many languages or what she is running from or even her origin. This is something he cannot handle.

“And your home planet is?”

“Unimportant.”

“I think if I am to stay with you, princess, I ought to at least know where you are from.”

“Do not call me princess.”

“Is that not your title?” Loki muses, impressed he was able to stir her this much from a single word. Now he is getting somewhere.

“See what happens when you call me that again.” Her tone is not just threatening - it is terrifyingly threatening. The kind of tone he heard from his father before he executed someone; a tone with rage, vengeance, pride, resolve and fear all rolled into one.

Loki cocks his brow. “What could you possibly do to me?”

Ashira narrows her eyes. “If you are so strong, my liege, then go ahead. Call me princess again.”

It is a hard decision - to push her or not. On the one hand, it is beyond tempting, a temptation he would have never resisted before. On the other, they are still flying through space in an area he is unfamiliar with in a vessel she knows intimately where she has the upper hand no matter what he does.

“I’ll save it for another time. Might just be my good luck charm.”

“Insulting me as your good luck charm? Lord have mercy on your soul.”

“I need no to ask for mercy, I am a demi-lord.”

“Oh god,” she groans, rubbing her face.

“You called?” Loki asks without missing a single beat.

Ashira clenches her jaw in frustration but it does not last; she cannot help it. The giggle passes her lip, a snorting giggle that morphs quickly into a full on laugh. Too loud for Loki’s likely, though not nearly as obnoxious as Thor or Odin’s. She’s leaned over and laughing at his joke. A very, very stupid one at that.

“You are just the worst,” she chuckles, reaching her hand towards her mouth in an attempt to stop laughing.

“Possibly.”

---

The rest of the day (night? Loki can never quite tell) is mostly uneventful. She tinkers with things that could easily blow up the ship or scrolls through news on a hologram in a language he cannot read (nor does he know which it is) and he sits bored.

Around dinnertime (or at least when his mind says it should be dinnertime) he sits back down at the table across from Ashira. She has magnifying glasses on, leaning forward close to what looks like a grenade, pliers in her left hand and a small power source in the other. Loki ignores the sheer stupidity of creating a live grenade on a ship while they are hurtling through space, desiring a need for his restlessness.

“When do you think we will be landing next?” He asks.

Ashira looks up, grenade wide open, power source still held in her right. She looks like a big - eyes are too large for her face in this view. “You want to rid of me so soon?”

Loki smiles. “I get bored easily.”

“Four, five days most.” She quickly shuts the grenade and tosses the power source into a box on the table labeled ‘Explosive - do not touch’. His eyes glance to that then back to Ashira as she speaks again. “I’m thinking Naboo since I need some things to fix my ship and it’s got great markets and an amazing junkyard. And if you really are that bored, we can play some games?”

“Oh? And what’s in it for me?”

Ashira takes off the ridiculous glasses, an unsettling grin on her face. “Loser takes a shot and has to says one fact about themselves.”

“I’m in.”

“You don’t even know the game.”

“Don’t have to.” Loki leans back in the chair.

She stands suddenly, tossing the grenade and the pliers into the same box of explosive power sources. Loki winces, expecting something to go horribly wrong. But nothing does. He sighs quietly in relief as she picks the box up and walks away.

“Alright, cocky McCock face, let’s roll.”

Loki leans back forward, blinking rapidly. “What in the name of Valhalla did you just call me?”

---

Chess. A painfully Midgardian game with roots well outside its atmosphere. But Ashira insisted, seeing as he seems crafty and clever and she was taught battle strategy for a very long time. He agreed only because of that very point - it is a game where cleverness is required and he believe he is quite clever. So she set it up, her white and him black (‘for our hair, duh’ she explained) and the two began.

The first game is more intense than Loki ever remembers Chess being when he played it previously. It was always so calm, so boring. Decisive but mind numbing; strategical but requiring luck as well.

Ashira carefully moves her Queen, eyes staring directly into Loki’s “Checkmate.”

“What?” Loki shouts. His eyes scan the board. It’s true - he is in checkmate.

“I said...” Ashira stands to gestures wildly at the board. “Checkmate.”

“You must cheating.”

“I don’t have magic. So a shot and a fact my friend.”

Loki grimaces as he grabs one the shots she laid out. It smells of rotten fish combined with fresh strawberries and nothing has made him question his choices more than this moment - well, that isn’t quite true. Before he can throw up, he downs it, completely bypassing his tongue in order not to taste whatever that drink may taste like. He sets the glass down harshly and just as quickly begins to gag. It takes him second of holding his breath and forcing himself not to throw up in order to keep whatever the hel she just poisoned him with down.

“Poor you,” she sneers. “A fact?”

Loki smirks. Just a fact. Not an unknown fact, not an important fact but just a simple fact about himself.

“I’m taller than you.”

“Fuck you.” Ashira sits back down, a tiny smile on her face. “But good. You know how to play the game.”

---

For hours it goes on in a similar fashion: Loki usually losing (even when they switch games) and spouting useless facts about himself and Ashira spouting equally, if not more, useless facts about herself.

“Dude, we gotta stop,” Ashira giggles. “I don’t care about your tolerance or mine, we’ve already gone through three bottles.”

“Three bottles? How could I possibly have even touched - hiccup - one? That stuff is disgusting.”

“C’mon, let’s go to sleep.”

Loki sighs as Ashira tugs on his arm. Though she is tipsy (less so than he), she is still able to pull him from his seat at the table. He steadies himself by gripping onto the chair, still stumbling down to his knees at her sudden movement. His knees hit the ground loudly, entire body shuttering at the fall. A groan passes his lips.

“Fine.” He looks up to Ashira. “But you owe me more facts when we wake up.”

“Whatever you say, my king.”

---

The next few days are similar. Both pretending nothing ever happened that one night, throwing banter and teases back and forth, getting drunk in an attempt to get the other to tell the truth.

But a god known for mischief and lies is unlikely to give up anymore than necessary and a princess on the run trained in strategy for both the battlefield and negotiations knows the ways of the cunning. It’s a fruitless few days. So when they finally land on Naboo, Loki is thankful to be able to stretch his legs, get some sun.

They’ve landed a good five miles outside the main city edges in a clearing of the forest. It’s remote, easily hides the ship. As soon as Loki steps outside he inhales the fresh air happily. Relief floods his system with each new inhale, the sun a reminder that life isn’t too horrible all the time.

“So we will be here for a few days. Once I get what I need it’s gonna take me a little to fix it. So, um, before we head out I’m going to give you the same option I gave you on Contraxia.”

He turns around. Ashira is lingering in the door of the ship, changed into a black t-shirt and dark blue jumpsuit, arms tied around her waist.

“As of now,” he begins, looking around at all the trees and plants he never thought possible, all in varying shades of greens and yellows and maroons, “I think I will stay in your company. It is more enjoyable than I thought possible.”

“Alright. Well, I’m going to head over to the junkyard. It’d be awesome if you could come with me just so it is easier to bring back what I need. If you don’t want to go that’s fine.”

“I’d rather come with.”

“This way then, my king.”

---

The walk to the junkyard is a long one but not nearly as long as the time spent there. Upon seeing the haphazardly placed metals, randomly sharp edges in not always noticeable places, and the sheer amount of general dirtiness, he opts to wait outside. Ashira just shrugs and heads in, letting him know it could be a while and it’ll get boring out there.

One hour in and he got bored, admittedly. But there was enough unidentifiable flora and fauna to keep him somewhat occupied, mind coming up with bizarre names to keep himself sated. Like the snake-like creatures that seemed to be in an evolution to have legs and were a neon maroon instead of a shade that blended in. He found those fascinating.

Two hours in and he got up, deciding to wander around the forested area a bit. It was just more of the same. Trees he could not identify but looked similar to what he has seen before, plants that just seemed a little bit off, and animals evolved a bit differently than what he is accustomed to.

Three hours in and he sits back down against the fence and decides to take a nap. He’s bored, there’s nothing to do. Why not sleep?

He isn’t sure when he is being shaken awake but he estimates six hours since they’ve arrived given the amount of sunlight. The shaking is violent, pulling and pushing him from then back into the wooden fence, his shoulder being whipped like nothing.

His eyes open up fully to see Ashira peering down at him, hand gripped tightly on his shoulder as she shakes him. Even as she makes eye contact with him she continues to toss him around, his hair picking up bits of saw dust and loose wood from the fence.

“I’m awake,” he grumbles.

“Just had to make sure. C’mon, you know it’s a long walk and the sun’s going to be down before we get there. Stole a flashlight from the guy though so we should be good.”

Loki stands slowly, stretching his back as he does so. “You stole it?”

“Of course. You can stretch and walk. Let’s go.”

Behind Ashira is a metal wagon overfilled with wires, metals of different properties, and perched carefully on top a sheet of glass. Even without any movement it teeters back and forth. It’s teasing him, threatening to fall and shatter at any moment.

“Why is everything you do a catastrophe waiting to happen?” Loki demands as Ashira grabs the handle.

She shrugs. “Maybe I just love to see just love catastrophe.”

The rest of the walk is silent.

---

Once back, Ashira stops Loki from just walking inside, throwing her left leg out in front of the entrance of the ship. She reaches into the pocket of her unextended right leg, pulling out two small electronics. Loki instantly identifies one of them as a credit pass, similar to the one Ashira has; the other he cannot identify but is similar in size and shape.

“Was able to snag you one of these,” she explains, handing it over to him, “and I rigged text to talk device to translate Kree into Standard in text form.”

Loki takes both objects no larger than his palm in each hand, thumbs gently running over each one individually. For a stranger who accused him of being after her within seconds of meeting, she is being awfully kind. But he gets it. He understands. He can tell she is lonely from being on the run for universe knows how long and finally has companionship, no matter how bizarre and untrusting that companion may be.

“Thank… thank you.”

“No problem. We’ll head into town tomorrow, I’m gonna get started on fixing what I need to.”

Loki looks back up to her. “It’s too dark, is it not?”

She laughs. “There are these thinks called lights, you know.”

While Ashira sets up everything she needs to start fixing her ship by dragging lamps Loki didn’t know she owned out and on top of the ship, tossing a toolkit haphazardly up there as well, and placing a ladder dangerously against the side, Loki retreats inside the ship, deciding that he should probably eat something. He still hasn’t the nerve to ask what most of the food is called given most of it has textures and flavors he has never experienced that are not particularly savory.

Half-way through attempting to make something, all the lights and everything within the ship powers down, the horrifying whizzing noise of a shutdown humming throughout.

“Sorry!” He hears from above.

Loki huffs. His half made sandwich like meal will have to suffice.

So he walks over to the entrance of the ship, sitting on the edge to eat. The moonlight lets him actually see what is happening on his plate. Plus fresh air never killed anybody.

As least as far as he is aware.

The rustling of the flora is calming, grasses rubbing against each other and leaves fluttering gently. The night fauna sounds much different than the day time, he notices. Their calls are much deeper and shorter, sometimes nearly unnoticeable. Unfortunately, the most noticeable noises are the clanking of tools and hiss of wires above him, the occasional swear in a language he doesn’t understand and the loud bumps of Ashira hitting herself against something.

But he eats in the semi-peace. Any bit of calm is better than no calm.

Once finished he places the plate just inside the entrance and lies down, head propped up against the edge of the ship. The stars on Naboo are beautiful, but his mind is not looking to their beauty, rather hoping they have answers to the many questions he has.

Like: Can Heimdall can see him? And if he can if has he told anyone? And if he has told anyone do they want him home? And if they want him, are they willing to send someone to him?

It is likely Heimdall can see him and there is no reason not to tell anyone. But after everything, after already being the shadowed child and then being that severe of disappointment no one will ever want him home.

Ashira shuts off her last lamp, deciding to put the rest off for tomorrow. She looks over the edge to look down at Loki for a moment. His eyes are small with sadness instead of exhaustion like she expected. Even his face is softened but not because he looks like he is about to sleep but because he looks incomprehensibly sad. She sighs.

“The view is better up here, you know!”

Loki chuckles, face lighting up just a tad. “It’s possible I prefer this view.”

“One crowded by the ship?” She crawls over to the blanket she set up. “Alright, whatever works for you I guess.”

The sound of Loki swearing softly under his breath followed by his clamoring up the later she leaned against the side makes her giggle. Loki picks up on her grease-covered jumpsuit and the small amount of black streaking across her face despite the darkness. Her face is soft, eyes searching the stars in a different way than he did.

“Come on, lie down.”

Loki almost jumps at her talking; he had not realized he was paused. So with mildly flushed cheeks he finishing his ascent to the top and walks over to her. There is a blanket laid out, one he has not seen before: a deep royal blue much like her jumpsuit with even darker purple trim.

He lies down beside her, ensuring there is at least a foot of space (to not invade in her personal space, you know). His eyes float upwards, past the treelike and to the dark night sky. The view is much clearer from above the ship with the excess lights getting in the way. The swirls of pink and purple contrast perfectly with the green-blue ones entangling themselves with each other. There are more stars than he ever thought could fit in one night sky, some twinkling, other staying steady, all of them perfectly placed in the sky.

“It really is better,” he admits.

“I told you.”

“No need to rub it in.”

“Pretty sure there is.”

Loki glances over for the briefest second to see her smiling, a true, happy smile.

---

Waking up onto of a ship is not ideal, but it’s what happens.

Ashira wakes up first. It is startling enough to her that she fell asleep in a place where she could be captured. Then she processes precisely what is happening. Loki has basically koala-ed himself around her, she still flat on her back. She never pegged him for a cuddler. She pegged him for a ‘if you even touch me I will kill you’ sort of guy. Yet here he is: his significantly taller frame curled up and holding her like she’s his favorite childhood stuffed animal. It takes everything in her not to burst out laughing.

Then she realizes she needs to get out of his grip. While she loves the morning sounds between the trees, the various critters chirping and the rustling of the flora, it is easily 8 or 9 and the marketplace is going to be flooded already.

It takes some gymnastics mixed with a mild version of parkour as well as weightlifting, but she eventually pries him off and sneaks back down into the ship.

When Loki finally awakens (about thirty minutes later) it doesn’t take him long to figure where he is and how he got there. He is rather confused as to why the ladder is gone though and how the blanket got placed on top of him.

So with a huff he gets up, curling the blanket like a cape around himself, and waddles over to the edge. It isn’t a very far jump - one he’s made thousands of times - but the unfamiliar ground is what makes him nervous.

When does finally descend and get in the ship, Ashira is already entirely ready, sitting at the table reading some form of news. Her hair is less braided than normal, most of it down save a small portion from each side that Loki presumes comes into one braid in the back. He never realized just how long her hair is until now with it entirely down. The silver curls fall well past waist. She is also wearing yet another different set of clothes (Loki has far too many questions about how she keeps pulling out different outfits when the ship appears to have no room), this one extremely bland: mostly taupe and brown and basically just pants and a tank top.

“Finally up I see,” she grins, eyes not leaving her hologram.

“I am. You are dressed… oddly.”

“We should head in to town today and I’ll keep working when we get back. The fix is gonna be easier than I thought it would be, so sometime tomorrow we’ll be able to leave.”

“Should I change as well?”

Ashira looks over to him, tilting her head. “Don’t think the weird leather sleep look you got going on is going to work. Something less fancy possibly? And fix your hair, please.”

Loki grumbles. He tosses the blanket over to her and in a slow glow of green changes into something possibly more suitable. It’s like the outfit she first found him in but even more dulled down and made of a material similar to the burlap of hers.

“That’s better. Let’s go.”

---

The marketplace is crawling with people from all over the sector. Some diplomats and their families, some citizens hoping to get into the public session of the meeting and the usual crowd. Loki pulls himself away from a group of kids running past them in the opposite direction. Ashira seems not to care about the throng of people, some humanoid and others.

“Are there always this many people here?” Loki asks, side stepping a slimy creature he does not recognize.

Ashira shrugs. “Naboo is a popular market planet, so it is commonly busy. This is overly busy, it’s likely there is an event or an Interplanetary Council meeting. That also means there are probably a lot of sales going on to entice people to go into their store. Because you have been so bored may I know what you do in your spare time normally?”

“Reading, mostly. Riding on horseback, though that isn’t quite possible on a spaceship.”

Ashira turns to him. “Reading? That’s… that’s it?”

“I mean I trained with my brother and his friends as was expected of me,” he glances down to her, “but I had more fun being behind the scenes.”

She exhales with a regretful yet still upbeat sigh. “Books it is then. There are some awesome book stores here thankfully.”

---

The day in the marketplace goes surprisingly well. Loki gets books and entertainment as well as food he can actually stomach and Ashira successfully scams even more people through simple bets and street games, occasionally swiping food or toys and handing it off to one of the street kids, smiling as they giggle and run off.

“Why do you do that?” Loki asked at one point.

“Do what?” Ashira replied, watching the two young girls run off with the miniature ship kit.

“Give them things.”

“They’re kids.”

“They could just be scamming you.”

“I’m not giving anything of mine, you know that right? I’m stealing things and giving it them. Sticky fingers right here, encouraging it for future generations. And those kids aren’t scamming anyone. Those are kids who really are growing up in the alleyways.”

“You know if we were on Asgard stealing is a capitol crime with a punishment of 20 years in jail.”

“Good thing we’re on Naboo which follows the Interplanetary Law Charter that allows people to be punished based on the laws of their home planet and if that cannot be discovered, will be punished by a thing they created.”

Loki had simply hummed in response.

---

After returning to the ship, the two sorted everything. He had been hesitant to get as many physical books as he did but Ashira insisted there was space. Loki didn’t believe her given the limited space on the ship but also had his suspicions there is hidden storage somewhere given her never ending assortment of clothes.

Ashira kicks the wall across from the kitchen and the panel flies open, exposing another set of open space for storage beside the one she had open a few weeks ago. Inside already sits several shelves full of books. More shelves both above and below are empty, dust settled untouched. Loki tilts his head down at her, face contorted into confusion with several questions lingering in his head.

“Most of them are in my native language or Kree so unfortunately you can’t understand them. But there is plenty of room for yours in there, so take it.”

Loki nods. “Thank you. Do I have to kick it to open it?”

“Well there isn’t a button or like a fancy thing anywhere, so just kicking it really hard is the best option, so yeah. I’m going to go finish those repairs.”

Ashira squeezes between him and the closed panel to get back outside. She has work to do and he has books to sort.

So off he goes. There aren’t many books, not as many as would like anyway, but enough to hopefully keep him occupied for a while. Some are ones he has read millions of times, classics from across the galaxy that Asgard has some original copies of. Others are ones he has never read before but Ashira told him he should, explaining that if he is going to be exploring the universe, he ought to be properly cultured.

That’s also how she tricked him into getting non-physical books and tons of other things he doesn’t quite understand yet.

Once he is satisfied with the way he organized his books, he decides to see exactly what she has, even if he can’t read it. He picks up a thick one with a flat dark blue cover; it is the same dark blue as the blanket and jumpsuit. The lettering is a smooth and holographic silver.

He opens it and flips through a few of the pages. The pages feel real but seem mechanical; it is possible they are made from some sort of fiber that cannot deteriorate or is more like a series of thin screens seeing as most of the images actually move.

It appears to be a guide of a sorts to different planets - both adversarial and allied. Pictures and illustrations of flora and fauna, the people who live there, the type of technology and military, what type of government, and more. Loki admits he hasn’t heard of most of these places, save one or two, and is amused by the many different classifications even if he can’t read them.

That is until he hits a familiar picture: Asgard. He cannot read it but he assumes the section head is Asgard and due to the length of it presumably also about the other nine realms. The page is in the adversarial section.

Loki stops a moment. Not only does she know about Asgard and what it rules, but she knows Asgard as an enemy of her home. And yet she still allowed him to stay. A creeping feeling of paranoia blankets over him: is there a chance she is just using him for something? Is there a chance she is trying to use his friendship to gain access to Asgard so she can find refuge there?

A thud of her boots hiding the grass pulls Loki from his thoughts. He shoves the book quickly back into its previous spot on the shelf, his hands retreating at the same time Ashira walks in.

And as she walks in, she rubs her face with a towel aggressively to remove some of the grease. She cannot even see what is happening. Loki groans internally. He easily had a second or two more to put the book back without nearly dropping it.

“Repairs all done,” Ashira announces, dropping the towel onto the table. “With that means I need to go back in tomorrow and get more fuel. If you want to stay here tomorrow that’s fine, if you want to come into town that’s fine as well.”

Loki clasps his hands behind his back. “I’ll decide in the morning.”

“Want to go watch the stars again? They actually change every night here.”

“I’ll have to see it to believe it, won’t I?”

Ashira grins. “You will.”

---

Ashira wakes first, again. Loki is not koala-ed around her this time but still made an unconscious effort to try and wrap himself around her, his right arm and leg tossed over her, most of his body weight following. Different maneuvers but similar tactics to yesterday are used to escape his clutches without waking him up.

And again Loki wakes about a half hour later and again sees Ashira all dressed and ready, reading something.

Though this time she really is wearing something weird.

Gone are any neutrals or the whites and golds she wore that one time; gone is the bagginess or mismatched-ness. She is, as always, wearing pants but this time wear what looks like formal or diplomatic wear: a perfectly tailored black military suit. Her hair is down again, but instead of her natural curls she has straightened it, pulled part of it braided back like yesterday. The braid is different too. Instead of the complex five strand she normally does it appears to be a common two strand fishtail.

“What are you wearing?” Loki questions.

“Thought I ought to look nicer today.” Ashira shrugs, nonchalantly turning her attention to Loki.

“For what purpose?”

“Because I feel like it.”

Loki’s brows furrow slightly. The only time she ever looked nice was to get into a place where people had to look nice and schemed money out of all of them. She, like him, does everything for a reason. She does not just do things because she feels like it. Someone like her is too intelligent to do something on a whim. So while everything in him screams to ask more questions, he opts not to, giving her benefit of the doubt for now.

“So can I look nicer today?”

“I don’t see why not.”

---

The marketplace is still busy yet the crowd of people generally seems to be moving towards what appears to be a palace instead of sprawled out amongst all the vendors. Even some of the vendors seem to be moving themselves closer to the main building. Everyone seems to dressed nicer in general as well.

“Ugh, all this traffic in one direction is going to make it impossible to get anywhere. Here, let’s go this way.”

Ashira grabs Loki’s right hand with her left and drags him down a side alleyway. It’s dark, various stairwells and tarps from levels above shading any sunlight. It isn’t as dirty as Loki expected but still full of trash and water, the stone extremely slick.

“Are you dressed up for the same reason everyone else is?” Loki asks.

“Coincidence?” Ashira responds. “This way.”

She drags pulls him to the left: the same direction everyone else was headed.

“Coincidence or are you headed to the same place?”

Ashira remains quiet, pulling Loki quickly through the alley. He struggles to keep up as usual. He even tries to physically stop her to get an answer but can’t; every single attempting at pulling back or stopping only leads to him tripping and nearly falling into the mud created by who knows what.

“Where are we going?”

“We are just avoiding traffic,” Ashira replies. “This way.”

She yanks him towards the right.

This alley is significantly smaller in both height and width. It also looks more like a connective hallway than an alley the further they walk but Loki opts to observe instead of ask questions.

It feels like she is leading him through a maze. With every turn the alleys get cleaner and more hallway like as well, Loki’s suspicion growing every step he takes. And when Ashira pushes a door open that leads into a kitchen like one back home on Asgard, he’s ready to lose his mind.

But she keeps walking, leading him through the kitchen. The cooks and other workers seem to pay her no mind, sparing only a simple glance before suddenly working harder than they were a moment previous. Given there is no way she just has that kind of power here, Loki begins to work out options for why that might be.

She pushes open the next set of doors. They open to a larger hallway, clean and simple. Though difficult to see, towards the other end is someone dressed in a suit very similar to Ashira’s. Loki glances down at his companion. He knew she was good at conning people but pretending to be apart of what is presumably a delegation of very important people and just bursting into their space like she’s meant to be there? That’s a whole other thing.

Ashira stops suddenly. Loki collides into her but as usual she does not move at all.

“Oh, look. There is a town-hall here,” she exclaims, pointing to the signage on the wall. “We might as well go since I’m assuming you’ve never been to one.”

“A town-hall?”

“Basically citizens go and voice their opinions on what the government is doing. We don’t have to stay long, c’mon.”

Loki allows Ashira to drag him towards where they need to go as he mulls everything over. What could possibly be so important at something like a town-hall that she dresses like an important member of society in order to attend? And why did they have to sneak in the back way instead of going through the front if they are going to just go in anyway?

He isn’t quite sure but knows he will be able to find out.

“Here we are!” Ashira announces, shoving Loki ahead of her into the room where the town-hall is to occur.

It’s large and reminds him of the ballroom back home only with more artificial light. There are for columns spaced evenly in the room, marking out a vaulted part of the ceiling and in the front of the room stairs to a stage like area. It’s already filled to practically the brim, some people in chairs, others standing; mostly adults but some children or adults with infants or toddlers standing around. A small congregation of important looking people is sitting at a table on the stage, notes sprawled about.

Ashira tugs Loki’s sleeve, nodding towards the closest pillar. He follows her lead towards it. They are oddly shaped, a normal column except the bottom six feet where it is a simply a box in essence and much wider than the rest of the column. With a soft bend in her knees Ashira jumps up and leans forward, knees landing on the top of the block. She rotates easily to sit with her back against the column, legs swinging out.

Loki sighs. He’s tall enough to just grab onto the edge and pull himself up and does exactly that. He will admit he is impressed by her jump, however. And landing on your knees with such softness? That’s not easy.

“What are we really doing here?” Loki asks once situated on her left.

“I told you. Just so you can experience it for once. It’ll be fun, I promise.”

A tall woman stands. Her skin is a pale green color, hair a medium blue. She is wearing a suit not all the different from the one Ashira has on. Loki mentally takes note at just how insistent Ashira is at making herself blend in by seeming important.

“Hello everyone. I am President Yari Nich of Naboo. Present today are also representatives from each planet within the ninth sector and I’m assuming from our large crowd, citizens from each planet. Today’s town-hall is to discuss the recent attack on Alderaan by the Mad Titan. Our main focus is going to be on how to help the remaining survivors but we are open to suggestions of all kinds.”

A younger woman holding an infant stands, one of the microphone-like speakers already given to her.

“I’m from Alderaan and happened to be here on Naboo when the attack happened. From what I have heard from those who survived is that resources in general are okay. But people to carry out those resources are not. The top neurosurgeon was killed and more than half of the farmworkers died as well. We need help harvesting our crops because it is harvesting season or they will all rot. For now we just need people.”

“That sounds very doable, thank you for letting us know. And we are very glad you are safe,” the delegate from Ginf says. “We have an outreach group already on its way to Alderaan and will be able to do just that. I’m sure the other planets will send theirs as well once this meeting is over.”

“Thank you.”

Ashira is having troubles sitting still. She keeps looking around the room for possible cameras, scanners that might be running facial recognition to prevent spies from listening in and anything else that might give her identity away. Several more suggestions of help go around which is not what she came for. This always her to visually search for anything that might be searching for her.

“The Ares clearly no longer have their most powerful weapon or sector of army. Instead of attacking their main allies why don’t we just attack them?” One of the citizens asks.

“They unfortunately still have more powerful weaponry than all our armies combined. That would be far too risky. A good idea, but not worth the risk,” the delegate from Yavin answers.

“Then why not attack that Titan directly. He’s got their mindless army, sure, but he doesn’t have all their resources. Surely a combined army could take him out.”

“Possibly. But we must keep in mind he has their full support and with that comes weapons we do not know of.”

The sound of three guards talking to each other catches Ashira’s attention and pulls her away from the idea of direct attacks. It’s hard to hear and in a language she hasn’t spoken in years but the words ‘princess’, ‘Ashira’, and ‘runaway’ stand out. She’s been identified.

She turns her head to Loki, tilting in to whisper to him. “Hey, what do you say about leaving? It’s getting a little boring, isn’t it?”

Loki withholds a smirk. “I don’t know. I’m quite enjoying this.”

Five guards talking. Facial recognition scanner is in the room.

“Oh come on. You’ve been king before. This cannot be that exciting.”

Loki shrugs. “I like seeing the way other governments run.”

Fifteen. Capture and hand over in good faith to ease tensions and create a treaty.

“Well that’s nice. Let’s go.”

Ashira pushes herself towards the edge of the column before sliding down. On her way down she grabs Loki’s right calf, hooking her left arm fully around it. Loki grabs the edge of the column for support but it isn’t enough to stop the pull of her slide. So he goes with it, tipping himself forward and sliding himself down as well.

She begins to walk towards the door on the left side of the room, the congregations of guards at the back right exit so the middle left door a good place to go. Loki walks closely behind her. Though he is amused by her predicament he knows he too is implicated and needs to stay with her.

Cutting through the crowd is easy, plenty of people have been moving in and out during the meeting for one reason or another. People allow the pair to pass, nodding at Ashira’s soft ‘sorry’s and ‘coming through’s It’s a relief when they reach the door and no one has stopped them and no guard has tried to grab her.

And then…

“Stop her!”

And all eyes turn to Ashira.

But instead of pausing like most people do, she keeps opening the door and immediately breaks into a dead sprint, Loki right beside her. She sprints slower than normal so he can stay with her, he now an accomplice in her crimes.

“Get them!”

“So I may have lied to you,” Ashira admits as she skids to the right, Loki sliding to match.

“Oh really?” Loki replies.

“They’re headed towards the south exit!”

“Let’s just get out of here and then we can have this discussion.”

Ten guards rush out from a hallway in front of them. Ashira turns left down the hallway before the guards, Loki nearly falling as he follows.

“Take my hand,” Loki pants, extending his right hand out.

“What?” Ashira shouts.

“Just take my hand dammit.”

Ashira glances behind her. A good five guards just came in from the hall behind them and at least ten are going to be waiting ahead of them soon. She doesn’t particularly trust magic but if it means getting out of here quicker then she’ll do it just this once. So throwing away all her reservations for just a moment she takes Loki’s right hand in her left and hopes he doesn’t fuck her over.

And in quicker than a blink they are inside her ship.

Immediately Ashira releases his hand and leaps towards the pilot’s seat. She lands in it perfectly, her hands already getting the ship started and ready to go. He is still impressed that she can do that seeing not only is it not a fifteen foot or so jump, but also avoids a set of stairs and several other obstacles. She seems to use them as checkpoints, pausing for barely a millisecond on them to push herself to the next every time.

“Okay there’s a jump near this planet so we’ve got to get it and then immediately take another. You’ve never been through one so strap in.”

Loki dashes to the co-pilot seat. From the urgency in her voice he follows her instructions of strapping in.

“And I hope my upgrade will work,” she mutters, pressing one final button.

“Wait, upgrade?” Loki asks. She really did lie if it was an upgrade and not a fix, on top of the meeting she snuck inside and a few other things thus far.

But Ashira doesn’t respond. Her focus is on getting them out of there.

She pulls up on the control, the upgrade immediately kicking in. The ship flies up at three times its normal speed and Loki grips tightly onto the armrests, his breath caught in his lungs at the sudden change in velocity. His eyes flit over to the ex-princess to see her paying no mind to the extra strength and gravity, body still moving like normal, muscles completely relaxed.

In its essence, all the upgrade is is just some extra power.

Ashira flips a switch near her right hand and they switch direction quicker than they normally would. The ship jerks forward and sails out of the atmosphere with ease; Loki is still stuck to the chair due to the increase and change of speed.

“Okay so a mammalian body cannot go through more than 50 at once. We are only doing 2, maybe 3 but you’ve never done any before and I’ve supped up my ship to go at hyper speed in case you couldn’t tell so sorry.”

Loki can’t do anything but groan and attempt to push himself forward.

It’s unsuccessful. Ashira presses two more buttons with her left, shifting the control with her right and they are suddenly and three times their previous speed, making them nine times as fast as they’ve ever been.

Loki’s eyes widen as he sees the gap in the sky approaching quickly, likely the jump she is referring to. It is a bright blue circle amongst the dark black background: a portal almost.

“Jump 1!” She shouts.

They pass through it and the entire ship shakes. Loki’s body shutters, every bone vibrating as they exit. He feels his brain sloshing around in his skill and using all his strength to turn to look at Ashira, questioning all of her sanity once again. Even if she is accustomed to flying and jumps this much speed should be affecting her at least a little bit.

“Jump 2!” She shouts.

Loki doesn’t even have time to look back through the window as the ship shakes violently again, his body ready to fall to pieces. He swears he is going to murder her once they slow down or land, her absolute madness no longer amusing. Her love for catastrophe no longer a joke. This, this is painful and terrifying.

Ashira presses a few buttons and reverse the control. The ship slows practically to a halt and Loki lurches forward, the strap prevent his head from smashing into the console by barely an inch.

“Told you to strap in,” Ashira muses, standing up and walking away.

He growls quietly. He needs answers.

---

It takes Loki a good hour to recover enough to stand up. He swears he will never do that again, regardless of the circumstances. What just happened was not survival; it was psychotic.

He finds Ashira in the kitchen, tossing a grenade up and down. He assumes it is a dummy, but after that stunts, he doesn’t know anymore. It could very well be a real and live grenade she is tossing up and down for fun.

She pauses when he nears the table, eyes catching his. She looks entirely unfazed about what happened earlier as if nearly breaking every bone in their body was just another day in the life. Loki sits down across from her. He stares her down, hands placed on the table with fingers threaded, attempting to show his anger about what she did, about her complete and utter stupidity. Ashira simply raises her right brow.

Loki internally sighs. Either she is stupid or is playing a game.

“So why did you need to go to a planet and risk getting captured and on top of that nearly get us killed?” He asks.

“I just wanted to go to that council meeting. Didn’t think I’d get spotted,” she huffs, leaning forward into her knees. She looks like a kid throwing a fit to Loki.

“What is so important at a simple council meeting to risk yourself so?”

She rolls the grenade around in her hand, needing something to do. “The fate of my home planet. I may never want to return but if there is a chance it is burning I want to be right there when it does. These meetings are never successful and never actually prove anything. I was hoping for something different.”

“You want to see your home burn?”

Ashira’s eyes flick up. Any trace of dark brown is gone - her eye color entirely swarmed by black. Her face is tight, teeth grinding as she stares him down.

“There is nothing else I would love more than to watch the planet, all the outposts, and everything burn. My running wouldn’t be over but I’d feel a hell of a lot better.”

The sentiment he understands. Seeing Asgard, his fake home, those he who lied to him burn would be utterly satisfying. But the sheer anger in her voice, the under layers of emotion he cannot quite read - that is something he has never seen. Not in himself, not in anyone.

Simply put: the more he learns about her, the less he knows.

------

Taglist:

@tarynkauai

#awomod #loki fic #loki imagine #loki x oc #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki helason #mutual distrust #a weapon of my own design #loki x reader #just pretend you are purple

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obtusemedia · 5 years

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Top 25 Songs of 2018: Honorable Mentions

It’s year-end list season again! And with that comes my sixth annual top 25 list.

But before we countdown the best that 2018 gave us, here’s 15 songs that just missed the cut. Like in 2017, this year had more quantity than quality when it came to singles, meaning although there were only a couple legitimate contenders for the top spot, there were plenty of solid songs that I had to give a shout out to. So apologies to great acts like boygenius, Florence+The Machine and Childish Gambino (although he easily had the best music video this year) for just missing the cut.

Let’s get into it!

“Nobody” by Mitski

There are plenty of songs about loneliness, but Mitski turns that emotion into insanity on “Nobody.”

Her emotions ramp up and become more desperate throughout the indie-pop track, as Mitski’s pleads for companionship intensify. She wants to find love, but frankly, she also just needs human connection. And as the one-word chorus repeats into oblivion — “Nobody, nobody, nobody, nobody...” the situation becomes more and more helpless.

My main issue with Mitski’s 2018 album, Be The Cowboy, was that most of the short vignette-style songs weren’t memorable. That’s not the case for the manic, disco-tinged “Nobody,” which instantly became a standout in her impressive catalog.

“Heat Wave” by Snail Mail

I’m not sure what it says about indie rock that its most hyped newcomer is mostly copying the sounds of the ‘90s, but when the tunes are as good as “Heat Wave,” I’m not going to complain.

Nineteen-year-old prodigy Lindsey Jordan, aka Snail Mail, delivers with a simple love song perfect for lazy summer days. Jordan’s vocals are charmingly warbly and mesh well with the crunchy guitars that wouldn’t sound out of place on a Pavement album. It’s catchy enough for soccer moms and with enough alt-rock nostalgia to grab any indie rocker’s ear. There’s a good reason Snail Mail’s star has shot to the top this year among the Pitchfork set.

“Me and Michael” by MGMT

IT’S THE COMEBACK OF THE CENTURY!

That’s not even hyperbole: After they released three generation-defining classic singles, MGMT’s relevance disappeared after their 2010 album Congratulations intentionally alienated audiences (despite being pretty solid). Then, their 2013 self-titled album was straight-up bad.

But thankfully, MGMT decided to return to the synthpop jams that brought them success 11 years ago, while keeping their weirdo quirks intact. And it was a winning formula, as the bombastic single “Me and Michael” proves.

“Michael” is painfully ‘80s, from the glittery keyboards to the thundering drum machine beat. Yet, many of the instruments are off-key and frontman Andrew VanWyngarden’s hipstery vocals aren’t exactly Duran Duran-esque. And the clash of styles helps create a solid tune, the band’s best in eight years.

“Elastic” by Joey Purp

Remember how Azealia Banks used to pump out hip-house bangers like it wasn’t even hard? Then she lost her mind, and now “212″ is a relic of a better time.

Thankfully, Chicago native Joey Purp is picking up the slack, although he puts a much more minimalist spin on the sound. “Elastic” is a very simple, skeletal song, with Purp nearly mumbling over a steady, bouncing beat with couple vocal samples to liven things up. “Elastic” shows that when it comes to club bangers, you really don’t need to overthink things.

“Nameless, Faceless” by Courtney Barnett

Melbourne indie rocker Courtney Barnett’s second album, Tell Me How You Really Feel, had a noticeably more frustrated outlook than her 2015 debut. A prime example is the album’s lead single, “Nameless, Faceless,” all about the difficulties of being a woman in a world that treats them horribly.

Barnett goes after internet trolls during the song’s verses with the droll, snarky tone that made her indie-famous, but the chorus is where things take a dark turn. Paraphrasing The Handmaid’s Tale author Margaret Atwood, Barnett sings, “Men are scared that women will laugh at them ... Women are scared that men will kill them.” She then adds that she holds her keys between her fingers in-between her fingers to protect herself at night.

It’s a fearful song for fearful times, and more proof that Barnett is one of indie rock’s best songwriters.

“Electricity” by Silk City and Dua Lipa

Producer giants Diplo and Mark Ronson teamed up to create a perfect homage to ‘90s house. It’s bouncy, effervescent, and features one of pop’s best voices: Dua Lipa. The fact that a dance jam this perfect was only barely a hit in the U.S. is a total shame.

“After The Storm” by Kali Uchis feat. Tyler, The Creator and Bootsy Collins

I’m not typically an R&B guy, but I couldn’t resist newcomer Kali Uchis’ debut Isolation this year, especially its smooth throwback single, “After The Storm.”

Uchis glides over the off-key synth backdrop, expressing post-breakup optimism with ease. The sticky melody and relaxed vibe are helped out by a blast of smooth (if off-kilter) loverman shtick from Tyler, The Creator and some fun adlibs from funk icon Bootsy Collins. But this is Uchis’ show, and she barely needs to lift a finger to hold listeners’ command.

“Please Don’t Die” by Father John Misty

After releasing an overstuffed and underwhelming album last year, Father John Misty, AKA singer-songwriter Josh Tillman, decided to keep it simple this year, and I’m back on his bandwagon.

One reason for that is how blunt and personal his songwriting is again, particularly on “Please Don’t Die.” Tillman’s concept album God’s Favorite Customer focuses on the real-life story of how his depression caused him to hide out in a hotel for two straight months, and the heartbreaking “Please Don’t Die” tackles this scenario from the singer’s wife’s point of view.

She constantly reminds Tillman that his potential suicide won’t be a victimless crime during the soaring chorus, and he laments how his spiraling has affected her in the somber verses. There’s no snarky winks to the audience here — just Tillman nakedly depicting how his emotional chaos effected those around him.

“My My My!” by Troye Sivan

I never paid too much attention to Australian former YouTuber Troye Sivan. Now I’m regretting that choice, thanks to “My My My!”

Pure bubblegum pop doesn’t play much of a role in today’s music landscape, so it’s hard to call any version of that subgenre “modern,” but that’s honestly how I would describe this jam. It’s a slice of stuttering tropical pop with some indie and ‘80s flavor to it, and Sivan himself sells the tune like he’d been singing these types of songs for years in a boy band. I’ll be keeping tabs on Sivan from here on out.

“Light On” by Maggie Rogers

Last year, I was floored by Maggie Rogers’ unique blend of rootsy nature sounds with blue-eyed soul, particularly in her stellar single “Dog Years.” It seems like she isn’t fixing what ain’t broken, as “Light On” is a continuation of that sound.

Although it isn’t quite as transcendent as her early singles, “Light On” is still a quality power ballad, with a nice mix of acoustic guitar and organic synths, complete with a showstopping, melancholy chorus. Rogers still knows her way around a gorgeous melody, and I’m sure she’ll continue to fill her niche as the best music you’ll probably hear at REI.

“The Opener” by Camp Cope

Camp Cope have had it up to here with shitty men, and “The Opener” is a scathing indictment of the hypocrisy the trio constantly face.

Lead singer Georgia McDonald wails over a ‘90s alt-rock groove about sexism both in the dating world as well as the music industry. The latter is where she reserves her sharpest lines, going after men who’ve said her success isn’t her own doing, and being told to book smaller venues by the same guys who will “preach equality” in public. And of course, how do these men in power maintain their faux-feminist image? “‘Just get a female opener, that’ll fill the quota.’” Scathing.

“We Appreciate Power” by Grimes feat. HANA

If “We Appreciate Power,” the (as of writing this) brand-new Grimes single, was trimmed by a minute or so, it might have made the actual list. It’s a smidge on the repetitive side at its current 5:30-length.

But dear lord: This is a BANGER. As just about every critic has said, the production here is an aggro mix of Nine Inch Nails and Korn, complete with squealing guitars, a pounding, synthetic beat and some random screams thrown in the mix for fun. And yes — it works. Put it on during the next workout and see how fast you start going.

Throw in some legitimately creepy lyrics about artificial intelligence and totalitarianism and you’ve got a classic Grimes single. If only it was a bit shorter...

“Lake Erie” by Wild Pink

For a band from Brooklyn, Wild Pink are shockingly good at creating music that sounds like the sun setting on a Midwestern corn field.

“Lake Erie” is so close to The War On Drugs’ signature sound — heartland rock mixed with whispered vocals and shoegaze-y atmospherics — that I’d call it a ripoff, if it wasn’t arguably better than anything The War On Drugs has put out in a few years. It’s emotive, gorgeous and not too pretentious, like something Bruce Springsteen could’ve released 35 years ago.

“Noid” by Yves Tumor

No, unfortunately, “Noid” isn’t about retro Domino’s ads. It’s much darker than a claymation pizza mascot.

Yves Tumor’s art-rock track is fairly normal for its first half. It even has shades of Marvin Gaye’s “What’s Going On” in the lyrics wondering about the sad state of the world. Then, things get weird: the bass starts playing in a different key, the background fills with static and screams, and Yves Tumor keeps singing along, and his lyrics about being “scared for my life” start to seem less like a protest anthem and more like a horror soundtrack. It’s a chilling experience.

“Party For One” by Carly Rae Jepsen

Queen Carly releases another pop banger and you think it’s not going on my list? Come on, now.

I’m not going to pretend like “Party For One,” Jepsen’s triumphant breakup anthem, is on the same level as her all-time classic singles. It’s the kind of bubblegum that she could write in her sleep.

But why penalize a perfectly great song just because the artist has done better in the past? “Party For One” might not be “Run Away With Me,” but it’s still a solid piece of synth cheese that no doubt makes Canada proud.

#top 25 songs of 2018 #pop #rap #indie rock

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youcanstayinmyheart · 6 years

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the barista effect (1)

[ gif posted by nochuie ]

» 1 / 2

» Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

» Genre: Fluff, Coffeeshop AU

» Word Count: 2,965

» Description: you meet him when he comes into the coffee shop you work at, and he keeps coming back. is it because of you, or the coffee? (i wanted to write this because i work at starbucks and i love jungkook lmao i’m such trash)

» Music inspiration: basically just listened to this

❀ ❀ ❀

The first time you two met, he had come in to order seven drinks.

Five iced americanos, black, and a vanilla bean frappuccino with extra whipped cream; the final drink, you came to realize, was for him. He was having trouble deciding on what to get, and you felt sympathetic due to his thick accent; clearly he was not fully fluent in English but was doing his best, glancing down at his phone every few seconds.

As you stood there, waiting patiently for him to sound out the word “mocha” with what you hoped was a sweet smile and not an exhausted one, though you were exhausted from the hectic week, you looked him over. He was sporting a messy haircut, golden brown in color. A simple white t-shirt that was a tad see-through left you with warm cheeks because it clearly defined his toned chest, and lastly he seemed to be wearing baggy jeans with a good amount of holes. Something about him had this...aura of importance, yet he was dressed so casually. Like he had recently rolled out of bed and needed to run some errands.

You weren’t one to judge.

“...Iced mocha,” his quiet voice finally said, snapping you out of your admittedly embarrassing once-over. As you nodded and reached for the right sized cup, uncapping your black marker, his eyes settled on your face for the first time. You quickly noticed that they were dark in color, like an espresso bean. The thought brought the corner of your lips up slightly, but you held back a chuckle, instead prompting him for a name.

He blinked twice, head tilting slightly as he repeated the word: “Name?”

“Yes, could I have a name for your order?” You did your best to sound out every syllable, without sounding like you were speaking to some kind of toddler. You had foreign customers in all the time, and three years into your job as a barista you were pretty used to speaking with them and understanding what they were trying to convey.

The young man cleared his throat, eyes wandering as if he were suddenly nervous. “Uh...J-...N-Nochu.”

Your eyebrows shot up. What? “I’m sorry?”

He repeated, “Nochu. No-chu.” And then he smiled, with a proud nod of his head after helping you sound it out.

You wrote the name down quickly on all of the cups, ringing up his total and taking the money he handed you. After rolling your sleeves up a bit, you set to get to work. Thankfully, the day had been dragging on and not many customers were coming in, most likely due to the weather. And with your co-worker on a lunch break, that meant you were alone for a bit. Seven drinks for one order usually made your heart sink, caused irritation to creep up your spine and give you a headache; it certainly helped that this customer oozed politeness.

If you were being honest, his visage definitely softened your mood too.

This guy that apparently went by “Nochu” stood at the pickup counter, tapping his fingers along the countertop rhythmically. His doe-eyes shifted around the shop, and due to your experience with customer service, you could tell he was nervously trying to find anything to grab his interest. You remained silent as you multitasked, pulling shots for the americanos and spinning around to the other side of the counter to make the frappuccino. Letting out a sigh, you allowed yourself to spare him another look, and at that moment your eyes met.

Your heart jumped a bit, but outwardly you kept calm and smiled. He returned it, albeit shyly. The blender stopped roaring and you removed the pitcher to pour the drink and finish it off, sliding it over to where he waited.

“Oh, you might need a tray or two,” you said, mostly mumbling to yourself. A bad habit of yours. You reached over and grabbed a couple of drink trays for him, knowing there was no way he’d be carrying all seven drinks out without some kind of assistance. Your good conscience wouldn’t allow it, either. “There we go. The last few drinks are coming right up.”

Warm, dark espresso eyes met yours again. You felt a pang of guilt and wondered if he could understand you. Awkwardly, you gave him a thumbs up before adding ice to the last americano.

And then, he laughed. It was the cutest sound you’d heard all day.

“Thank you,” he drawled, flashing a brand new smile that reminded you of an adorable rabbit. God damn. “You are...good...barista.”

That earned an embarrassed giggle from your end. “Thanks. I’d like to think so!” Seconds later, you stumbled over your own foot, and prayed he wasn’t watching.

Knowing your face was now pink, you stirred his iced mocha latte and noticed he now had a phone pressed to his ear. He spoke in a hushed tone, in a language that was certainly not English. Your curiosity was piqued, but of course you weren’t about to go digging. You didn’t even know this Nochu.

You were really wanting to, though.

After hanging up, he grabbed a handful of straws and looked around himself, wondering where he could put them. You were about to grab him a bag, but turned back and saw that he had stuffed them into the front pocket of his jeans.

I mean, whatever works! You giggled aloud, and his eyes shot up.

“Have a nice day,” you said, unable to hold back your smile and a little wave. “Enjoy your iced mocha.”

Balancing the two trays atop his palms, he spoke something your brain couldn’t translate--he realized this and quickly replaced it with, “Yes. Enjoy! You too.”

He walked out, and you were left picturing that bunny smile for the rest of your shift.

❀ ❀ ❀

Over the next few weeks, that cute stranger turned into a regular customer. You were certainly not complaining. He didn’t order seven drinks every time, which you were relieved about, but it would not have given you any ill feelings towards him even if he did.

Something you had begun to notice was that his English was getting better. He was a bit more open, and tried to talk to you instead of pressing his mouth shut and listening to his music. You still didn’t know him, but you were secretly proud of him. English was difficult and the fact that he was learning, whatever his motivation, impressed you.

Another thing that tickled you was when you asked for his name, once in a while he would throw some random other one at you. You had started to know him as Nochu, real name or no, and suddenly one visit he was responding to your question with, “Justin Seagull” and a wide grin.

He was so good at making you laugh, too. He was pretty goofy, and you found yourself with a little crush in no time. I mean, who were you kidding--handsome, funny, fashionable, and strong? (You’ve witnessed him carry a large duffel bag and two full trays of drinks without so much as a huff of exertion.)--he was a complete package!

Which, you realized, probably meant that he was taken. There was no doubt, right? His partner was probably just as cute as he was, would blow any cute barista aesthetic you tried to display out of the water.

You really tried not to think that way whenever he came by. He isn’t some prize to be won. He seems like a genuinely good person.

And he was about to prove it.

❀ ❀ ❀

You were all set to close up, with ten minutes to spare. After vigorously wiping down the counters, you spun around to check the register for the time, and suddenly there stood a man and you jumped out of fear.

“Sorry!” he instantly spoke up, chuckling a bit awkwardly. Your heart racing, your own laugh came out in a similar fashion. “I didn’t mean to spook ya.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, shaking your head and stepping forward. “I was just focused on my cleaning. What can I get for you?”

The man thought for a minute and finally decided on a frappuccino. Of course. You weren’t really in the mood to have to wash more dishes, but there was no way you would refuse to make him one.

“Coming right up!” you chirped, heading over to the drink making station.

As you went through the process, your back turned to him, you had this strange sensation. Like, eyes were on you from somewhere. You couldn’t help it and glanced back at him, trying to act like you may have forgotten where an ingredient was.

The man’s eyes were right on you. Uneasiness oozed into your chest.

“You’ve been working here for a long time, right?” he asked, his voice a bit lower than when he had just talked to you. A smile spread on his face, and it was different. “Whenever I come in, you’re here.”

“Ah, yeah,” you replied distractedly, scooping ice and putting it into the pitcher. Your thoughts were racing a little and you silently repeated your anxiety mantra. You’re okay, everything’s okay. “Three years! Sometimes I feel like I don’t ever get a day off!”

You didn’t want to ignore him, so you tried keeping up the conversation good-naturedly. There was just something that was screaming in the back of your head, something wasn’t right. Maybe the way his eyes never left you, even when you moved about behind the counter. How he kept asking questions about you and your personal life, which seemed innocent at first and then traveled into the territory of why do you need to know.

“Well, I’m really glad you had a nice Christmas!” Taking the drink from your hand, he inserted a straw and took a long sip, still eyeing you. You stood there for a moment with a quick smile, hoping to start your closing duties. It had probably been five minutes, and there was no one else in the shop besides the two of you.

“Yeah, you too. Have a good night,” you said politely, hoping this would end the interaction and you could get back to work. You were ready to get home and take a nice bath and get to sleep…

“It would be much better if I could talk to you longer.” That smile again. You had bent over to pull out the small vacuum for cleaning, and when you heard him your head snapped up.

He was checking you out.

The store suddenly felt smaller and darker.

“I-I, uh, that’s nice of you, but I’m actually supposed to be closing in-- right now! Haha. I’m sorry!” You hoped he bought your apologetic smile, because you really weren’t sorry. He was creeping you out.

The man pouted, setting his drink down on the counter by your register and leaning against the pastry case. “Aw, really? Even if I pay you, you can’t talk to me?”

What the actual fuck? “Er… I can’t--”

“What if I refuse to leave?” His eyes were unreadable, and he smirked in your direction. Your blood ran cold. “Would you talk to me then? Or make me leave?”

These felt like loaded questions, bullets striking you in the chest and making it hard to draw in air. Your tongue felt swollen and dry in your mouth. You really didn’t know what to say.

Swallowing, you offered, “Maybe...next time you come in…”

“No.” His palm was flat on the counter now, and he was leaning closer. This all felt so predatory. “I’m here right now, and I would really like to talk… Or, if you want instead…” He trailed off, licking his lips in an obvious hint.

Oh my god.

Your phone was in your back pocket, but you wouldn’t be able to get to it without him seeing, possibly grabbing it from you. He was tall, and you’re sure if he really wanted something from you he could take it. You were not strong physically or emotionally.

You pictured yourself naked and crying in the darkness behind the shop.

“What do you say?” the man mumbled, his voice thick and lustful. You felt tears building in your eyes, stinging.

And then, a noise. A door opening.

You both looked for the source, your expressions equally surprised. Who would even be coming in past closing time--

Nochu.

“Hello!” he greeted cheerfully, walking towards the counter with a warm smile. He seemed a bit tired, sweat shined on his exposed skin and his breathing was slightly labored. As he got closer, it was as if he felt the tension in the air; his dark eyes shifted to the man that was practically threatening you, and then back to your face. Your mind screamed at him to get help, to make him leave, anything.

He was a miracle, you swear.

“Oh, is it closing time?” his gentle voice asked, smiling apologetically at you. “Sorry. I had work...wanted coffee. But that’s okay!”

The man with the frappuccino glared outright at him, and you took the opportunity to slide your phone out into your palm while he didn’t notice. The two men stared at each other, one taller and angry, and the other clearly unperturbed.

“We should go, so she can clean,” the one known to you as Nochu offered nicely, eyes searching the other man’s face. Looking at him, you felt...safe. It’s like he knew exactly what he was doing. “Something to say?”

“...We were just talking. If anyone should leave, it’s you, who came in after closing time. I was already here with her, and she was willing to keep the store open for me.” For such bullshit, he was uttering it so convincingly, as if he was under some delusion of his own mind.

The younger man’s smile faded. He turned his head slowly to soak in your expression, your body language, and, possibly, the fear in your eyes. Once he had what he needed, he turned back.

“I think,” he began, his voice a pitch lower than you were used to hearing, “you should leave. She...no interest.”

“Excuse me?”

With a small sigh, he reworded, clearly piecing together the sentence in his head beforehand; “She is not interested in you. Please, leave her alone.”

In awe, you remained silent. You never expected a development like this.

A hateful laugh cut through the silence. “Oh, really? Are you going to make me leave?” he challenged the younger brunette, looking down at him as if he were superior.

In return, the one you had come to trust glared back with a level gaze. You had no doubt that he could pound this guy into the dust if necessary. “Yes,” was his response.

Apparently deciding it wasn’t worth his time--whether or not he was afraid is a different story--the predator scoffed and grabbed his drink, cursing under his breath yet loud enough for anyone to hear. “You’re lucky I have somewhere to be,” he growled, walking to the front of the store and literally throwing his drink into the trash can. “Fucking brat.”

As soon as the door closed behind him, you let out the breath you were holding. Your knees felt weak, so you steadied yourself on the counter with one arm. “Thank god…”

Your friend--friend?--regarded you with clear concern. “How you feel? Okay now?”

A breathy chuckle escaped you and you nodded to him. Add selfless to that list of qualities…

“Thank you, so much,” you said quietly, glancing at the front door out of paranoia. “I didn’t know what to do…”

“I will help you, anytime.” His smile was so warm and kind as he looked at you. It was like he was piecing you back together with his eyes. “You can...call me.”

As you were about to express confusion, and probably embarrassment, he reached into his pocket for his phone, scrolling and typing away until he faced the screen towards you.

It was a message that he had translated into English for you: “If anything like this happens again, or you need any other help, call or text me. Here is my number: *********”

“Oh,” you breathed, finding that your heart was in your throat. You didn’t think you would ever get his number… Much less because of some incident like this. You had to fight the smile off your face as you took out your own phone, adding him to your contacts list.

Just as you were about to type in the name as Nochu, something occurred to you.

With a playful quirk of an eyebrow, you looked up to him and found his eyes sparkling. “What’s your name?” you asked. “Your real name.”

The young man digested your question, and a second later he let out a snicker that reminded you of a mischievous child. He seemed amused by your playfulness, and something about his expression said that he was impressed by you; perhaps for knowing he had never actually given you his name before. His attention immediately went back to his phone, and after typing he showed you another message, although this time he spoke it for you as well. He sounded very happy.

“My name is Jungkook.”

i’m planning on continuing this, especially if people like it! i haven’t written anything in a long while so i feel a bit rusty atm. i hope anyone that reads this enjoys it! feedback is totally welcomed!! :)

#bts fic #jungkook x reader #bts fluff #bts au #jk x reader #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #writings

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chorusfm · 6 years

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The Top Albums of 2018 (So Far)

I think I say this every year but fuck it – the music 2018 has blessed us with in its first six months has been extraordinary. With all the insane shit happening around us and to us in this day and age, it feels like music is the only sane thing we have. So below we have our top 20 favorite releases of the year thus far. If you can’t find something to love on this list then you just aren’t trying hard enough – this is an eclectic list that encompasses multiple genres and styles. I can’t wait to see what the next six months brings to our ears. Note: You can share your own list in our music forum. The Top Albums of 2018 (So Far) 1. Brian Fallon – Sleepwalkers Brian Fallon came up in the New Jersey punk scene writing nostalgic rock songs about ferris wheels and that old house in Asbury Park and sleeping on the beach. He did it all so damn well that his band, The Gaslight Anthem, famously earned the Springsteen seal of approval. Fallon is a Jersey boy through and through, which makes the idea of his new departure of a solo record—an organ-led, British-invasion-influenced solo record recorded in New Orleans—so fascinating. That he completely pulled it off, continuing his incredible hot streak of albums that began with 2008’s The ’59 Sound, proves that Brian Fallon is among America’s greatest living songwriters. Following his solo debut, 2016’s great if slightly by-the-numbers Painkillers, Sleepwalkers feels far more confident and mature, as Brian Fallon stretches his skillset into a dozen interesting new territories. The NOLA flavor shows up when Fallon experiments with sultry new rhythms in “Come Wander With Me” and the horn-driven title track. “Forget Me Not” references the Beatles in the bridge to signal to listeners that, yes, this is a ‘60s pop song. There is a sizable dose of Pearl Jam in the grungy guitar tones on “My Name Is The Night (Color Me Black),” and there is just enough Barry Manilow flavor in stadium-sized ballad “Etta James,” which sounds like if “Mandy” were performed by a guy with neck tattoos. Still, despite the rampant experimentation, Sleepwalkers is as cohesive a record as we’ve come to expect from Fallon over the past decade, making it one of the most exciting moments in his impressive discography and one of 2018’s most well-crafted records. [JB] 2. The Wonder Years – Sister Cities “I feel like if you’ve been following The Wonder Years, this is where it’s been going,” frontman Dan Campbell states in the teaser trailer for Sister Cities, and he’s spot on. This is the band’s most dynamic album yet, which says a lot considering how much the band has grown with every release. “Raining in Kyoto”, one of the heavier songs the band has written, introduces the central theme of the record, which is that no matter how far apart we may be physically, we’re all connected by our shared humanity: “an older man stood close by and smiled at me / I rung the bell like he did, I told you I’m sorry / a makeshift funeral, I tried setting you free.” On the other side of the world during his grandfather’s funeral, Campbell found solace in a place that didn’t share a spoken language, but a language of grief and love. The album’s closer, “The Ocean Grew Hands to Hold Me,” is The Wonder Years at their most vulnerable: “when I was in shambles / when I got too weak / the ocean grew hands to hold me.” The song, and the album as a whole, is about darkness and loss, but it’s also triumphant. It’s about realizing that our individual struggles are our collective struggles. At our lowest points, our humanity—the ocean—lifts us up and carries us home. [SS] 3. Kacey Musgraves – Golden Hour While Kacy Musgraves is a country artist, it’s hard to characterize Golden Hour as a strictly country album. She’s been bending the genre since her release of Same Trailer Different Park in 2013. Honestly, it doesn’t matter to me what genre Golden Hour is placed into because it’s just a good album. Some song on the record (“Slow Burn,” namely) require warming up to them before you can enjoy them in the full context of the album, but I didn’t mind giving this a few spins before it sank in. “High Horse” is a catchy tune and it’s not the only one on the record. With each song, you get the sense that Kacey just wants to do her own thing without focusing on what it’s going to be labeled as. Her personality shines through and that’s what makes this album a fun one to listen to. [DC] 4. Spanish Love Songs – Schmaltz Spanish Love Songs are a band that play a particular brand of denim-jacket-punk that feels informed in equal parts by Against Me!…As The Eternal Cowboy and “The Authority Song” by John Mellancamp. Many of their songs contain lyrics where lead vocalist Dylan Slocum fears out loud that he will be killed in an act of random gun violence. This is to say that Spanish Love Songs are an American rock band. Schmaltz is greater than the sum of its parts. At first take, Spanish Love Songs sound a lot like The Menzingers, but that comparison is far too simple to leave unexamined. Compared to the Americana-influenced punk bands that preceded them, Spanish Love Songs’ choruses are more immediate with a notable to well-crafted vocal melodies and the inclusion of synthesizers to punch up the pop elements. The vocals are more frantic and anxious, as Slocum agonizes about the intersection of the aging process, the death of loved ones, and the definite timeline of his own life. Sure, the music Spanish Love Songs make may sound familiar, but the band have nailed the execution to the extent that Schmaltz is handily one of 2018’s most exciting releases from a new band. [JB] 5. Now, Now – Saved Every once in a while the perfect album seems to come along at the perfect time for me. I hear it, it just clicks, and it becomes not only my soundtrack for a few weeks, but my soundtrack for the year. Right now, that’s been the newest album from Now, Now. I find myself returning to Saved when I’m looking for a pick-me-up, when I’m looking to get into my feels on a late night, and when I’m just trying to zone out after a long day at work. The kind of album that just feels perfectly made for where I’m at and what I’m looking for from a record right now. I’m a sucker for pop-music that retains a strong emotional resonance. For music that is full of huge choruses and melodies while maintaining an emotional core. By and large, I think that’s the thread that’s followed me through my entire musical journey. It’s what really draws me to music in the first place. As we reflect on the albums that have made the first part of the year so special for us, I think about what’s going to stay with me through the rest of the year as well. I’ll be playing “SGL” while the sun’s out all summer, listening to “Knowme” as the leafs start to change colors, and have “P0WDER” on repeat in my headphones by the fire this winter. It’s an album for all seasons, for all moods, and it’s been my runaway favorite of the year so far. [JT] 6. Pianos Become The Teeth – Wait For Love After spending the last three Pianos Become The Teeth records recounting the life, love, pain, and loss of his father from multiple sclerosis, the band’s latest album Wait For Love features frontman Kyle Durfey exploring his own fatherhood, as he got married and had a child after finding some sort of closure on 2014’s Keep You. Wait For Love isn’t a happy record nor a sad record – it’s a realistic one that beautifully and painfully captures all the intoxicating highs and devastating lows of being a husband and father. The record is as emotionally complex as you’d expect from a Pianos record, but Durfey’s melodies have never been more powerful, surrounded by the band’s increased gracefulness in their musicianship and enhanced by David Haik’s pulsating and brilliant drumming. From the initial euphoric wave of “Fake Lighting” to the gorgeously intense closer “Blue,” Wait For Love is bursting with some of 2018’s most heartfelt, vulnerable tracks as Pianos Become The Teeth earnestly march into the next exhilarating phase of their career. (DB) 7. Pusha T – DAYTONA It’s been a long season for hip-hop, filled with new releases and controversy in equal measure. While many have taken Kanye West to task for his inane infatuation with Trump and a number of right-wing pundits, there was a certain curiousness ascribed to the announcement of his ambitious Wyoming Sessions. West set out to release five G.O.O.D Music albums within a month, and while ye may be polarizing enough to finally keep some listeners from buying into the producer’s schtick, the first release of these sessions, Pusha T’s DAYTONA, may be the best of the bunch. DAYTONA is as close as it gets to an instant classic, and the publicity surrounding the release, for better or worse, fuels that fact. In some ways, DAYTONA is exactly what we’ve come to expect from Pusha T – that is, luxury drug raps – but in another way, the album pushes new boundaries for the rapper. From the melodicism of opening single “If You Know You Know” to the stunning guitar samples on “The Games We Play” and “Santeria,” King Push manages to mix more braggadocio and quotables in just seven tracks than most rappers are capable of in an hour-plus. [AM] 8. Hop Along – Bark Your Head Off, Dog There is no voice in modern rock and roll as unique and indescribable as Hop Along’s Frances Quinlan. A constant see-saw between something beautiful and ugly, she undertakes a variety of different approaches, as if her voice is assuming a different character each time. And it’s so very apparent on the band’s incredible third album, Bark Your Head Off, Dog – a record that encapsulates a catharsis in the most imperfect yet perfect ways. Tracks like “How You Got Your Limp” and “Not Abel” prove that you don’t need to be abrasive to be impactful, each song channeling the tender yet spastic density of the band’s music. Bark Your Head Off, Dog may be the most visceral record of 2018, innately sticking with you long after the final track has finished playing. [DB] 9. Father John Misty – God’s Favorite Customer Josh Tillman is one of the most divisive voices in indie-rock, for reasons that are clear, but also somewhat silly. It seems many can’t stand the performer’s growing penchant for satire and theatrics, and if that’s the case, many will rejoice upon hearing his shortest and least ironic offering under the moniker yet. Taking sonic cues from his entire discography, God’s Favorite Customer is a piano record, a comparatively minimalist affair that often bursts into lavish compositions that would make a Beatle blush. Rooted in heartbreak and isolation, Gods Favorite Customer offers the unique songwriting chops fans have come to love as well as an unbridled and often bleak look at this particular songwriter’s process. An album of pleas, Tillman chastises himself on “Just Dumb Enough to Try” (“But I’m just dumb enough to try/To keep you in my life/For a little while longer”), but also switches places with his partner on standouts “Please Don’t Die” (“And honey, I’m worried ’bout you/Put yourself in my shoes/You’re all that I have/So please don’t die, wherever you are tonight”) and “The Songwriter.” Saving its least performative bits for the B-side, God’s Favorite Customer is the unfortunately common high point of an artist’s career mirroring a low point in their personal life. [AM] 10. Jeff Rosenstock – POST- If Jeff Rosenstock’s We Cool? is about the internally-directed disquiet that comes when an anxious person starts noticing the aging process, and if WORRY. is about the externally-directed disquiet that comes when an anxious person decides to get married and settle down in a troubled political climate, POST- is about that same anxious person trying their absolute hardest to keep it together in the era of Donald Trump. While POST- doesn’t shake up the WORRY. sound all that much (discounting some experimentation with longer song structures in the opening and closing tracks), Rosenstock has clearly gone through significant changes since Inauguration Day. Specifically, he’s writing from a much lower place. While Jeff postured himself as the flag-bearer in the movement against all that is fucked up in the world on WORRY., POST- finds the singer full of anxiety and paranoia with nothing but questions to offer. Did my friends and neighbors vote for him? How can I speak out against this? Is there really any point in doing so? Can I start a new life in Australia or something? And while “Let Them Win” doesn’t begin to start answering these questions, it does present the only possible conclusion, the only mantra that feels within reach: no matter how bad things get, we’re not gonna let them win. [JB] 11. Fall Out Boy – MANIA If you could put me in a time machine that looks like a DeLorean and shoot me back to the release of Fall Out Boy’s Take This To Your Grave, and let me tell myself that in 15 years the band would still be going strong, and, in fact, may have just released their best album? I’d probably believe time-traveling-Jason. I’ve always believed that this band is special and it’s thrilling for me to watch their career unfold. The constant has been the band’s ability to write very good songs. They’ve walked through a variety of different genres and branched out their sound, but I’d argue that the the underlying “Fall Out Boy-ness” has always remained. (Uh, ditto for people arguing about them on my forums.) MANIA has quickly grown to be one of my favorite Fall Out Boy albums. I’m drawn to this brash confidence I can feel in the songs. It’s got a pulsing soul that reverberates through a razor-tight 36 minutes. Between foot-stomping choruses and soul-baring ballads, it’s the amount of pure fun that I find in the album I’m drawn most to. In a world that feels more hellish each day, there’s a comfort to this record. I’m not surprised this band is still cranking out great songs all these years later, but I’m always pleasantly surprised when I not only find something to like, but something I genuinely want to listen to. Well done you little pleasing purple record you. [JT] 12. Lord Huron – Vide Noir Lord Huron, the indie rock group from Los Angeles, have had quite a few years to grow into their trademark sound of atmospheric landscapes and wandering journeys. Vide Noir, the third studio album and their first on a major label, was mixed by Dave Fridmann (Tame Impala, The Flaming Lips) and self-produced by front-man Ben Schneider, in which he has crafted his early career masterpiece. Schneider recently credited this album to a new habit of taking nighttime drives around LA and the “search for meaning amidst the cold indifference of the universe,” according to his recent social media posts. This album in particular speaks to the late night journeys that Schneider had become accustomed to and takes the listener on a rewarding path of self discovery. Lord Huron are at their most comfortable when they experiment with these sonic landscapes and there’s plenty of this apparent on this LP. [AG] 13. Caitlyn Smith – Starfire Some artists just have those voices that you can’t deny. You might not usually listen to the genre they hail from, and you might not even love the songs, but you can hear them sing and understand why people love their music. Adele is one of those artists. Chris Stapleton is one of those artists. Jeff Buckley, when he was alive, was one of those artists. And Caitlyn Smith is one of those artists, too. For my money, Smith’s debut, titled Starfire, is one of the two or three most well-sung LPs of the decade so far. I’m guessing that one listen to the theatrical tour-de-force “East Side Restaurant” will be enough to tell you why. While Smith’s voice is the centerpiece, though, Starfire is what it is because of the songwriting. Smith has been waiting for this moment for a long time, releasing a series of EPs and writing songs for everyone from Garth Brooks to Dolly Parton to Meghan Trainor and John Legend. Starfire encapsulates that long-haul story into a record about chasing a dream until it breaks your heart—and then chasing it even harder. Songs like “Don’t Give up on My Love” and “This Town Is Killing Me” ache with the sting of everything you sacrifice when you gamble your life on a fool’s hope of music industry success. “They buried my granddad without me/’Cause I was out on the road at some one-off show in Tupelo/And I can’t take that one back,” Smith sings in the latter. Starfire is an album built on a lot of miles, a lot of lonely nights in shitty motel rooms, and a lot of blood, sweat, and tears. You can hear every ounce of what the journey cost in the songs, so when Smith belts something like the rafter-shaking key change at the climax of “Tacoma,” it feels like nothing less than a triumph of the human spirit. [CM] 14. Camp Cope – How To Socialise and Make Friends There’s a renaissance of primal, emotionally-charged punk rock coming out of Melbourne, Australia right now (roo-rock?) and the all-female Camp Cope is leading the charge. Lead singer Georgia Maq started as a solo artist, but added Kelso Hellmrich and Sarah Thompson to great effect on their second studio album, How to Socialize & Make Friends, a loose reference to the classic Dan Carnegie self-help book published in the 30’s. Maq is equal parts sincere, sarcastic, bitter, and brazen singing about gender politics (“And all my success has got nothing to do with me/Yeah, tell me again how there just aren’t that many girls in the music scene”) and just surviving in a world not built for sensitive people (“But sometimes it’s hard to go outside/And I’ve been driving way too much/I’ve been too lazy to fix my bike”). Her beautiful banshee scream is reminiscent of Hop Along’s Frances Quinlan’s, but nothing about Camp Cope is purely derivative. Now in their prime as a band, they have created a place for themselves all their own. [DK] 15. Underoath – Erase Me The first time I heard “rase Me, I was let down—but somehow totally vibing with album standout “No Frame.” And then I listened again. And again. The songs started wiggling their way into my head. And then I listened again. The next thing I knew, I was belting every song for weeks on end. I’d trusted Underoath for fifteen years, and they delivered again, despite my initial reaction. Listening to an album “freed from religion” was listening to the catharsis of a man not afraid to address God from a place of vulnerability and honesty unafraid of how he was perceived in the asking, conquering the addiction demons of his past, and coming to a new sense of identity—all while exploring new avenues of sound for the band. Some defined these new sounds as selling out—and while I would’ve preferred more “Hold Your Breath”-type songs to “Rapture”-type songs—I’m all for bands writing what they want to write. This will never be remembered as their greatest album, but with enough time, it becomes an intensely personal album if you let it. The soaring chorus of “In Motion” or the absolutely crushing bridge of “ihateit” spoke directly to my life experiences. Spencer sang words echoing the thoughts I’ve kept on scraps of paper only I see. When I come to music, I just like to be seen. Thirteen years after “Young and Aspiring” changed my life, Underoath still makes music that sees me. And I still see them. I’m so happy for the continued success and happiness they’ve found along the way. Erase Me is an album about the journey, and I’m already excited for what the destination of a next album promises. [GL] 16. Soccer Mommy – Clean Perhaps no other artist understands coming of age in the 2010s the way Soccer Mommy’s Sophie Allison does. Her first proper full-length, Clean, displays her knack for chronicling the uncertainties of young love, feeling misunderstood, and avoiding one’s parents in a way that feels far more mature than the subject matter would suggest. Take “Flaw”’s honest retelling of a relationship gone sour, culminating in the self-aware line: “I choose to blame it all on you, ‘cause I don’t like the truth.” Or listen to the rollicking, defiant single “Your Dog,” a screed against a controlling boyfriend that turns into a positive affirmation of her autonomy. It’ll be exciting to watch Allison grow, but for now, Clean is a hell of a first step. [ZD] 17. Animal Flag – Void Ripper Animal Flag’s latest full-length, Void Ripper, is aptly named. It’s the band’s darkest and heaviest release yet, and the music is every bit as crushing and apocalyptic as Matt Politoski’s lyrics behind it – lyrics like, “everyone I know will die” and “life is short, it always ends.” While Politoski’s lyrics are admittedly depressing, they’re also his most personal and thought-provoking yet. He and the rest of Animal Flag have torn through the void, and what they discovered on the other side was something beautiful. [ZD] 18. Frank Turner – Be More Kind Frank Turner is an Englishman, dutifully touring his way around the world and then back again, racking up a whopping 2,202 shows under his belt. So if anyone knows what might help our country right now, it’s probably the very world-weary Frank Turner. On Be More Kind he prescribes one part decency (“Be more kind, my friends/Try to be more kind”) , one part rage (“Let’s make America great again/By making racists ashamed again.”), and one part persistence (“Put on your brave face, honey, your brave face/It’s funny how fear can bring your focus in tight”). It’s a winning formula and the subject matter forces Turner to slow down in way he’s never done before. He leans in hard on the end-of-the-world theme with titles like “21st Century Survival Blues” and “Making America Great Again,” but mostly gone are the fast guitars and punk power chords, replaced instead with sensitive acoustic strumming and even, on standout track “Blackout”, a clubby dance beat. Turner crafts a surprisingly mellow, insightful album, one that feels, more than ever, like one he’s been wanting to make. And if takes an Englishman with four chords to save our country, well, we’ll take it any way we can get it. [DK] 19. The Republic of Wolves – Shrine After my first listen of Shrine I knew that this was a very special record. On their 3rd LP The Republic of Wolves return to their roots. This record delivers an album full of dynamic dark alt rock songs that are sure to fill a void for some. Lyrically, Shrine is a concept album that centers around Japanese folklore while still touching on relatable themes such as heartbreak (Birdless Cage) and spiritual conflict (Bask) . One of the album’s highlights is the centerpiece “Dialogues,” which takes the listener through a musical journey of both loud and soft dynamics, while also containing a call back a track on the bands first LP “Monologues.” The production on shrine is fantastic and contains some of the best guitar tones I’ve heard this year. This record delivers on many layers and is a must listen for fans of dynamic alternative rock. [Teebs41] 20. Turnstile – Time & Space If you’re looking for 2018’s most wild ride look no further than Turnstile’s Roadrunner Records debut, Time & Space. Blending the perfect mix of shout-along choruses, super groovy musicianship, and just the right amount of heavy to get the pit moving (thanks to Will Yip’s crisp production), the Baltimore quintet is the most exciting and unique band to emerge from the hardcore scene in years. “Generator” flows like an out-of-body experience, elevating above any and all distractions, while the fuzzy crunch of “Moon” features a guest turn from Sheer Mag’s Tina Halladay and the blistering “Right To Be” features added production from none other than Diplo. Clocking in with 13 tracks at just under a half hour, Time & Space proves that the tired ideas of what hardcore should be will not stop Turnstile from getting freaky and releasing one of the best albums of the year. [DB] Contributor Key * [CM]: Craig Manning * [JT]: Jason Tate * [AM]: Aaron Mook * [SS]: Scott Surette * [ZD]: Zac Djamoos * [DC]: Deanna Chapman * [DB]: Drew Beringer * [AG]: Adam Grundy * [GL]: Garrett Lemons * [JB]: John Bazley * [DK]: David Kallison Contributor Lists Jason Tate * Now, Now – Saved * Fickle Friends – You Are Someone Else * Fall Out Boy – Mania * Half Waif – Lavender * Brian Fallon – Sleepwalkers * Dessa – Chime * The Neighbourhood – The Neighbourhood * Kacey Musgraves – Golden Hour * Natalie Prass – The Future and the Past * Pennywise – Never Gonna Die * Janelle Monae – Dirty Computer * Soccer Mommy – Clean * Spanish Love Songs – Schmaltz * Nathan Gray – Feral Hymns * Illuminati Hotties – Kiss Yr Frenemies * The Republic of Wolves – Shrine * Lykke Li – So Sad So Sexy * The Longshot – Love is For Losers * Annie-Marie – Speak Your Mind * Tonight Alive – Underworld Drew Beringer * Father John Misty – God’s Favorite Customer * The Wonder Years – Sister Cities * Hop Along – Bark Your Head Off, Dog * Turnstile – Time & Space * Petal – Magic Gone * Self Defense Family – Have You Considered Punk Music * Beach House – 7 * Pianos Become The Teeth – Wait For Love * Sleep – The Sciences * Tiny Moving Parts – Swell * Jeff Rosenstock – POST- * Culture Abuse – Bay Dream * Rolling Blackouts C.F. – Hope Downs * Dance Gavin Dance – Artificial Selection * Wax Idols – Happy Ending * Now, Now – Saved * Hurry – Every Little Thought * Drowse – Cold Air * Wye Oak – The Louder I Call, The Faster It Runs * Anthony Green – Would You Still Be In Love Adam Grundy * Lord Huron – Vide Noir * Middle Kids – Lost Friends * The Aces – When my heart felt volcanic * CHVRCHES – Love is Dead * The Neighbourhood – S/T * Moon Taxi – Let the record play * Car Seat Headrest- Twin Fantasy * Kendrick Lamar/VA – Black panther soundtrack * Brian Fallon – Sleepwalkers * Senses Fail – If there is light… * Dashboard Confessional – Crooked Shadows * Nathaniel Rateliff & the Night sweats – Tearing at the Seams * Arctic Monkeys – Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino * The Voidz – Virtue * Underoath – Erase Me * Superorganism – S/T * Ben Howard – Noonday Dream * Pennywise – Never Gonna Die * Father John misty – Gods favorite customer * The Longshot – Love is for Losers Craig Manning * Caitlyn Smith – Starfire * Kacey Musgraves – Golden Hour * Tenille Townes – The Living Room Worktapes * Dawes – Passwords * Brian Fallon – Sleepwalkers * Donovan Woods – Both Ways * Field Report – Summertime Songs * Brothers Osborne – Port Saint Joe * Steve Moakler – Born Ready * Dierks Bentley – The Mountain * LANCO – Hallelujah Nights * Ashley Monroe – Sparrow * Brandi Carlile – By the Way, I Forgive You * Courtney Marie Andrews – May Your Kindness Remain * Parker Millsap – Other Arrangements * The Dangerous Summer – The Dangerous Summer * The Church Sisters – A Night at the Opry * Snow Patrol – Wildness * Ashley McBryde – Girl Going Nowhere * American Aquarium – Things Change Scott Surette * the wonder years — sister cities * the republic of wolves — shrine * pusha t — daytona * dance gavin dance — artificial selection * hop along — bark your head off, dog * jeff rosenstock — post- * pianos become the teeth — wait for love * turnstile — time and space * cardi b — invasion of privacy * soccer mommy — clean * jpegmafia — veteran * tiny moving parts — swell * the dangerous summer — the dangerous summer * senses fail — if there is a light, it will find you * pennywise — never gonna die Deanna Chapman * Kacey Musgraves – Golden Hour * Hidden Hospitals – Liars * Marian Hill – Unusual * Caitlyn Smith – Starfire * Brothers Osborne – Port Saint Joe * The XCERTS – Hold On To Your Heart * Brian Fallon – Sleepwalkers * Hurry – Every Little Thought * Elder Brother – Stay Inside * The Longshot – Love Is for Lovers Zac Djamoos * Spanish Love Songs – Schmaltz * The Wonder Years – Sister Cities * Soccer Mommy – Clean * Animal Flag – Void Ripper * Camp Cope – How to Socialise and Make Friends * Long Neck – Will This Do * awakebutstillinbed – what people call low self-esteem… * Pianos Become the Teeth – Wait for Love * illuminati Hotties – Kiss Yr Frenemies 1 * Mighty – Mighty * The Republic of Wolves – shrine * No Thank You – All It Takes to Ruin It All * Black Foxxes – Reidi 14. Runaway Brother – New Pocket * Speak Low If You Speak Love – Nearsighted * Jeff Rosenstock – Post- * Toy Cars – Paint Brain * Late Bloomer – Waiting * Barely Civil – We Can Live Here Forever * Casey – Where I Go When I Am Sleeping Aaron Mook * Caroline Rose – LONER * Porches – The House * Father John Misty – God’s Favorite Customer * The Sidekicks – Happiness Hours * Pusha T – DAYTONA * Beach House – 7 * American Pleasure Club – A Whole Fucking Lifetime of This * Donovan Wolfington – Waves * Kraus – Path * Mount Eerie – Now Only Chrisanne Grise * Brian Fallon – Sleepwalkers * Franz Ferdinand – Always Ascending * Lord Huron – Vide Noir * Florence and the Machine – High as Hope * Leon Bridges – Good Thing * David Byrne – American Utopia * Father John Misty – God’s Favorite Customer * Frank Turner – Be More Kind * The Longshot – Love is for Losers * Kate Nash – Yesterday Was Forever David Kallison * Camp Cope – How to Socialize and Make Friends * Brian Fallon – Sleepwalkers * Spanish Love Songs – Schmaltz * Sorority Noise – YNAAT * Frank Turner – Be More Kind * Hop Along – Bark Your Head Off, Dog * illuminati hotties – Kiss Yr Frenemies * Coach Phillips – Learning How To Swim EP * Pelafina – Sorry In Advance * Wonder Years – Sister Cities * Tiny Little Houses – Idiot Proverbs * The Penske File – Salvation * Childish Gambino – “This is America” single * Juice WRLD – Goodbye and Good Riddance * Pllush – Stranger to the Pain * Nahan Gray – Feral Hymns * Animal Flag – Void Ripper John Bazley * Spanish Love Songs – Schmaltz * The Wonder Years – Sister Cities * Staten – I don’t want to be alone anymore * Now, Now – Saved * Pusha T – Daytona * Brian Fallon – Sleepwalkers * Kevin Gates – Chained to the City EP * Kississippi – Sunset Blush * Janelle Monáe – Dirty Computer * Hop Along – Bark Your Head Off, Dog * The HIRS Collective – Friends. Lovers. Favorites. * Jeff Rosenstock – POST- * A Will Away – Hear Again EP * J Cole – KOD * Saba – Care For Me * Tiny Moving Parts – Swell * Courtney Barnett – Tell Me How You Really Feel * Cardi B – Invasion of Privacy * Animal Flag – Void Ripper * Zaytoven – Trap Holizay Garrett Lemons * Underoath – Erase Me * The Wonder Years – Sister Cities * Beyonce & Jay-Z — Love Is Everything * Jeff Rosenstock – POST- * The Weeknd – My Dear Melancholy * Cardi B – Invasion of Privacy * Frank Turner – Be More Kind * Shawn Mendes – Shawn Mendes * Dashboard Confessional – Crooked Shadows * Pianos Become The Teeth – Wait For Love * The Dangerous Summer – The Dangerous Summer * Senses Fail – If There Is A Light… * The Republic of Wolves – Shrine * Brian Fallon – Sleepwalkers * Kacey Musgraves – Golden Hour * Janelle Monae – Dirty Computer * Migos – Culture II * Now, Now – Saved * Justin Timberlake – Man of the Woods * Pusha T – Daytona Ryan Gardner * The Wonder Years – Sister Cities * Spanish Love Songs – Schmaltz * Kacey Musgraves – Golden Hour * Pianos Become The Teeth – Wait For Love * Now, Now – Saved * The Sidekicks – Happiness Hours * Brian Fallon – Sleepwalkers * The Dangerous Summer – The Dangerous Summer * Underoath – Erase Me * Turnstile – Time & Space * Soccer Mommy – Clean * Harms Way – Posthuman Tommy Monroe * Pusha T – Daytona * Anne-Marie – Speak Your Mind * Charlie Puth – Voicenotes * Cozz – Effected * First Aid Kit – Ruins * Vance Joy – Nation Of Two * Princess Nokia – A Girl Cried Red * Fall Out Boy – Mania * Camila Cabello – CAMILA * Jay Rock – Redemption * Beyoncé & Jay-Z – Everything Is Love * Janelle Monáe – Dirty Computer * Cardi B – Invasion Of Privacy * Royce da 5’9 – Book Of Ryan * Migos – culture 2 * J. Cole – KOD * The Dangerous Summer – The Dangerous Summer * Julie Bergan – Turn On The Lights * Kids See Ghosts – KIDS SEE GHOSTS * Kanye West – Ye Aj LaGambina * Now, Now – Saved * Pianos Become The Teeth – Wait for Love * Kacey Musgraves – Golden Hour * Animal Flag – Void Ripper * Hop Along – Bark Your Head Off, Dog * Brian Fallon – Sleepwalkers * Jeff Rosenstock – Post- * Tiny Moving Parts – Swell * Fall Out Boy – Mania * MGMT – Little Dark Age Eric Wilson * Kacey Musgraves – Golden Hour * Brian Fallon – Sleepwalkers * Mayday Parade – Sunnyland * Camila Cabello – Camila * Mike Shinoda – Post Traumatic * Fall Out Boy – MANIA * Mat Kearney – Crazytalk * Dashboard Confessional – Crooked Shadows * Tonight Alive – Underworld * State Champs – Living Proof --- Please consider supporting us so we can keep bringing you stories like this one. ◎ https://chorus.fm/features/articles/the-top-albums-of-2018-so-far/

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